Cunning and Compromise
by MorganAW
Summary: Mr. Darcy's world turns on its head as he discovers at the Netherfield ball that he has misjudged everyone's motives: Mr. Wickham is more honorable, Miss Bingley more conniving, and Miss Elizabeth more resentful than he'd given any of them credit for.
1. Chapter 1

This story is based on characters and plot from _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen which is in the Public Domain. All original content and plot for Cunning & Compromise is released under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International license by Morgan A. Wyndham.

 **Chapter 1**

 _Meryton, 24th of November_

Lieutenant George Wickham peered across the rows of products with a studied negligence. To the common observer he appeared to be a bored gentleman and officer casually browsing cravats, gloves, and stick pins. Internally he was plotting his next step. Happening upon Denny in London had been his saving grace. Since his disappointment that summer in Ramsgate, he had been surviving off of his charm alone drifting around among his friends and acquaintances as a house-guest, earning his bread with his dazzling wit in company. Friends, however, were growing scarce. Credit was growing scarcer. If he hadn't left London when he did the whole jolly farce of his life would have come crashing down on him. A lucky night at the card tables had won him enough ready cast to purchase a commission in the –-shire Militia just when Denny presented him the opportunity. At the moment the fresh line of credit granted to him by the unsuspecting merchants of Meryton gave him a cushion but he knew it wouldn't last. Credit never lasted long. The meager pay of the militia was not enough to keep him in the style of his peers. Although a commission in the regulars would have offered more ready blunt he was far happier dodging creditors in England than dodging French cannonballs on the continent. Try as he might, the solution to his problems always circled back to the same place, marriage. There was nothing for it but to procure an heiress and her fortune.

His musings were interrupted by the opening of the shop door followed by the quick pace of military trained boots on the floorboards. Blast. Lieutenant Carter. He quickly ducked behind a display of voluminous fabrics to avoid his new friend. While the gullible merchants of Meryton would not require him to settle his debts for the foreseeable future, debts of honor were another beast entirely. He had meant to keep his head last night, drink little and gamble cautiously. However, despite his best efforts he still ended the evening sorely light in the purse and with a sizable debt to his new friend Lieutenant Carter. If word spread around the barracks that he did not settle his gaming debts then this particular house of cards would fall even faster than usual. His newly begun military training suggested that the only wise option was evasion until this could be resolved.

Peering through a conveniently located swathe of sheer Organdy he saw two elaborately dressed women enter the shop. He could immediately tell they were not of the local set. Himself a fan of sartorial extravagance, he recognized that their gowns were of the first stare of fashion, undoubtedly made by a premier London modiste. The excessive trims, flounces, and jewels spoke to money. The kind of money he needed. The looks of cold disdain they shot around the shop were no doubt intended to ward off interaction, though the near-empty shop hardly warranted such measures. To his great satisfaction they regally sailed toward the back of the store where he was hidden away. "Oh Louisa!" sighed the taller woman, "I despair of finding anything in this dreadful town to tempt Mr. Darcy. He's seen all of my current gowns and I do want to make an impression at this ball." Her companion responded with a bored murmur of "too true" that implied a lifetime of complacent agreement. Wickham's interest further piqued by the mention of his former friend, he remained hidden silently observing their interaction.

"Of course, I have taken measures to ensure that he will be unable to avoid me at the ball. When he slips off the sanctuary of the library, which he is sure to do when the company becomes too demeaning for him, I shall be there to follow him."

"Oh, Caroline, you know how fastidious Mr. Darcy is! He will simply retreat immediately!"

"Ah, but this is where my cunning comes in to play. I have rigged the lock to malfunction once the door is shut. We will be trapped in the library together. Of course you, my dear sister, will come looking for me and send up the alarm that we are quite alone. My reputation will be lamentably ruined and Mr. Darcy, being the honorable gentleman that he is, will of course offer for my hand."

"But are you sure?" Worried the shorter of the sisters as she ran a length of satin from the display through her hand. Wickham inched back as she came perilously close to unveiling his hiding spot. "A scandal of this proportion will not die easily among the ton."

"I regret the subterfuge, but needs must," said Caroline as she snapped open a fan from a nearby shelf. "Darcy has put off offering me for far too long. As the sister of his dearest friend, who has a higher claim on him than I? The only reason I agreed to this misguided foray into the wilds of Hertfordshire was to gain the intimacy of a small house party yet he has been woefully distracted by that chit Eliza Bennet. EERgh!" She threw the fan down in a fit of frustration.

"Too true," said her sister in a disinterested voice.

"Well, in the end, the ton will not dare rebuke Mrs. Darcy of Pemberly for long, Mr. Darcy is far too rich and respectable," Caroline said as they walked away. Her parting words echoed in Wickham's mind as he watched the two elegant snakes slither away. She was right of course; the names of Darcy and Pemberly had bailed him out of the worst of his scrapes for most of his life. Although he did not have the pleasure of these ladies acquaintance, they clearly must be Bingley's sisters. In fact, he had yet to meet any of the Netherfield party due to his strained relationship with Mr. Darcy.

A quick scan of the room told him that Carter had left the store while his attention was fixed on Miss Bingley's scandalous plot. As he left the store he ruminated on his history with the Darcy family. He had been raised at Pemberley. Mr. _George_ Darcy, his namesake, had been his godfather and benefactor. His son, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had been his playmate and friend, almost a brother. But as they aged their lifestyles began to tear apart their friendship. Wickham had grown more gregarious, lively, and passionate as Fitzwilliam retreated into rigorous propriety, duty, and dullness. Wickham had tried to help socialize Fitzwilliam and get him to live his life and have fun, but his rigid morality would not bend. Wickham often wondered how any man with a pulse could live the way Fitzwilliam did, but regrettably, impulse control had never been one of Wickham's strong suits.

When his benevolent patron died, old Mr. Darcy had planned to provide for Wickham's future as a parson with a living in the village of Klimpton. Fitzwilliam had decided that a debauched parson would be no asset to the neighborhood and instead forwarded the blunt to start Wickham off in the law. At the time he had happily agreed but diligent study, again, was not one of his strong suits. His legal career fizzled out before it even began and Darcy's money burned quickly through his purse. With an empty stomach and no means of supporting himself, he rejoiced when the paper announced the death of the incumbent parson at Klimpton. Writing sermons had to be better than debtor's prison. Fitzwilliam, however, adamantly refused to give him the living.

Georgiana's heart proved to be far more tender than her brother's. In his hour of need, the sweet girl offered him salvation. The thought of a London season and the whirlwind of the ton frightened the poor girl. He proposed a mutually beneficial solution: if they married, she would be spared the throngs of society and he would be able to live the life of a gentleman off of her sizable dowry. Using his strongest assets, his wit and charm, he convinced Georgiana and her companion it was the best solution for all involved and planned to elope while she was visiting Ramsgate. Upon discovering their plan, Fitzwilliam failed to see the sensibility of the match. Without a care for Georgiana's feelings or Wickham's purse, he cruelly separated the two and cut off all ties between Wickham and the Darcy family. Since this event, his social credit had been quickly dwindling.

Of course, the account he had given the lively Miss Elizabeth Bennet of this history was a bit more bitter. He had not expected her name to factor into Caroline Bingley's machinations. He had heard that the two eldest Miss Bennets had stayed at Netherfield during Miss Bennet's convalescence. He wondered if Miss Bingley had picked up on Darcy's true attachment or if she was seeing competition merely to explain Darcy's lack of interest in herself. Despite Wickham's continued resentment of Darcy, they were raised almost as brothers and Wickham retained some latent sense of brotherly affection towards the pompous prig. Why, his knowledge of Miss Bingley's nefarious scheme may provide salvation from his current financial troubles _and_ a means to save Darcy from an unwanted marriage. Normally, Wickham would not resort to forcing an unwilling lady's hand – especially when seduction was far more fun – but would it be so bad if the lady's own trap was set against her? Wickham had planned on being conveniently absent from the ball at Netherfield, but armed with this new information, it might be worth the risk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _The Netherfield Ball, 27th of November_

Caroline Bingley was making her final rounds ensuring that everything was perfect for the evening's festivities. This was her chance to dazzle Darcy with her finely honed skills as a hostess. As she sampled the food from the kitchens, inspected the plate and silver in the dining room and re-positioned the decorations in the ballroom just so, her confidence rose that Darcy may just be so impressed with her prowess as a hostess that her stratagems may not be necessary. _Then again,_ she thought as she proceeded down the hallway to the library, _it never hurts to have insurance._ Her preparations in the library were no less crucial than those in the ballroom. If her and Darcy were to spend an evening here, she would make it as comfortable and cozy as possible.

When Charles first proposed letting Netherfield Park she was thrilled at the opportunity it posed for her to be in close confines with Mr. Darcy. As her brother's hostess, she would have the opportunity to demonstrate her ability to manage a household to Mr. Darcy. In the wilds of Hertfordshire they would no doubt have little company or distraction. As their stay dragged on she was increasingly disillusioned of this scheme. She may enjoy playing the hostess to her brother at his rented estate but this was nothing compared to her coveted role as mistress of Pemberley, the jewel of Derbyshire. She had labored through years at one of England's finest finishing schools, bearing the taunts of her peers. She smiled placidly as the impoverished daughters of earls coolly snubbed her. Her family had far greater assets than theirs, yet because their fortune sprung from trade she was ostracized. Eventually, through her impeccable deportment, accomplishments, and wardrobe, she carved out a space within their world. Yet, despite all of this work, she was acutely aware that she was the advanced age of twenty-two, unmarried, and not invited into the highest tier of society. Sure, she'd received offers from men who were beneath her; tradesmen, solicitors, men who should have realized that her education and social standing now made her out of their reach. These men would not gain her access to the venerated drawing rooms of the ton.

Mr. Darcy of Pemberly was her ticket. Due to his close friendship with her brother, Caroline had the privilege of his company. His fortune, his home, his breeding; all were of the top order. Pemberley was the most impressive estate in England (though she certainly had her ideas on how to improve it.) She had spent years detailing out how to fashion Pemberley into her own elegant abode. She was often invited as part of his intimate family party at Pemberly just as he was now part of her family party at Netherfield. It was right, it was proper ... it was going to happen. If it hadn't been for the 'fine eyes' and impertinent jabs of Eliza Bennet, he surely would have proposed weeks ago. Miss Eliza lacked breeding, fashion, and accomplishments; her education was indifferent and her beauty minimal. She would be ill qualified to manage a household like Pemberley. Caroline's planned entrapment was merely the push he needed to do what was right. "For Pemberley" she murmured as her fingers grazed the tampered lock. Both she and Charles had made it abundantly clear to Mr. Darcy that when he grew weary of the ball (as he was sure to do) he could surely retreat to the library for some solitary respite. With a calming sigh she moved back toward the entrance to stand in the receiving line with her brother, sister, and brother in-law. She had of course personally assured Mr. Darcy that he needn't be part of the tedious receiving line; the indignity of greeting each of these ill-bred country nobodies would be beneath Darcy's dignity. She herself only endured it at Charles's insistence.

* * *

Wickham had been enjoying putting his new army training in reconnaissance to the test. He had arrived at Netherfield slightly before the other guests. With his greatcoat covering his scarlet regimentals, he had covertly walked around to the servant's entrance and snuck in. He found his way to the library and inspected the lock. _Astounding!_ he murmured to himself. _It appears Miss Bingley had broken off a part of the key into the lock in advance. Therefore when the door closes and the lock latches, the key will not fit to open it._ As he was surveying the rest of the room, he heard the light footsteps of a woman in dancing slippers approaching. For the second time this week he found himself ducking beneath fabric, this time a hideous tapestry along the west wall. He valiantly fought back the urge to sneeze in the dusty void behind the tapestry. This battle won, he realized that the void was, in fact, a concealed doorway. Not wanting to give away his location quite yet, he left further investigation until he was alone. Peeping over the side of the tapestry, he spied Miss Caroline Bingley intently staring at the lock of the library door, lost in contemplation. On a soft sigh he herd her declaration of, "for Pemberley," followed by her swift departure.

Aha, just as he had suspected. Pemberley was her goal. She was interested in the position that Darcy could give her rather than Darcy as a man. Wickham was not one to judge another on this account, particularly as he had similar aspirations in marriage. He turned his attention to the door, and noticed a small key in the lock. Unlocking the door he found it opened into … _darkness?_ Ah, another tapestry in what appeared to be a study. Fortunately for him, it was currently empty. A plan was forming in his mind. He felt it prudent to leave the door unlocked, should he find a speedy retreat from the library necessary, and pocketed the key.

He removed his greatcoat and hid it behind a chair in the library. When the din of the arriving guests began to rise, he made his way down the hallway and blended into the crowd. He slipped into a small alcove created by large urns of floral arrangements; these at least should allow some privacy for his observations. Fortunately for him, the Bennet family had just arrived. While it may be a minor embellishment to claim all eyes settled on the five pretty daughters, the one pair of eyes he wished to avoid were squarely settled on Miss Elizabeth. _Interesting._ Wickham had known Darcy most of his life. He had been present as Darcy developed the icy mask he wore in society and therefore knew how to see beneath it better than anyone else. That gaze held passion, love and ... contempt. _Perfect. The prig can't even fall in love without being crushed by his crippling sense of pride, duty and honor._ To be fair, being privy to Miss Elizabeth's feelings towards Darcy, contempt may be the only emotion the two shared for one another. Sheepishly, he admitted to himself that her dislike of Darcy was what had initially drawn him to Miss Elizabeth. In his life he'd come across few who would show preference for the son of a steward over a gentleman. When given the chance he could not resist the urge to bask in her indignation at his plight.

However, in all of his years of friendship or animosity with Darcy, this was the first time he had seen him pay this level of attention to any woman save Georgiana, and this was clearly not brotherly affection. The weight of his upbringing fell on his back like a ton of bricks. He couldn't be the means of ruining the young master of Pemberley's happiness, even if Darcy was intent on ruining it himself. Alas, there was nothing for it but to undeceive Miss Elizabeth. It was a shame, really for he quite liked her. More importantly he liked her admiration. As neither of them had a feather to fly with, he knew from the start that marriage was out of the question but he fancied that he had at least made a small hole in her heart. As the young lady was just now turning her brilliant smile and flashing eyes in his direction, it seemed the opportunity to disillusion her may come sooner than expected.

As Miss Elizabeth approached him, he glanced again at Darcy. Upon recognizing Wickham not only among the guests but actively sought out by the lively Miss Bennet, Darcy's face now reflected indignation, rage, and a tinge of hurt beneath his stony mask. A survey of the room indicated that he was not the only one observing Darcy's countenance. Caroline Bingley was occupied with watching Darcy watch Miss Elizabeth's progression through the room with a calculating glint in her eye.

"Miss Elizabeth, How lovely you look tonight!" Wickham greeted her with a flourishing bow.

She curtsied and responded, "Mr Wickham, there had been speculation as to whether you would attend tonight. I am glad that the embarrassment of a certain gentleman did not drive you away from the amusement." They both looked towards Darcy, who quickly looked away, Wickham noticed however that he had merely re-focused his attention to a mirror where he could instead observe their reflections.

"I have yet to test my mettle and approach my old friend, but he has not yet scared me away. Luckily for me, I have endured many years worth of Darcy's disapproval; the ball should survive our mutual presence."

"Old friend? Come Mr. Wickham, how can you say such a thing when we both know the hardships he has cast at your feet."

He sheepishly looked at his feet, but as he saw no hardships physically manifest there he steeled himself to the necessary task. "Alas Miss Bennet, I must confess I gave you only a portion of the truth. While Mr. Darcy did deny me the living promised by his father when it came available, I previously neglected to mention the compensation he had given me three years prior in lieu of the living. The present animosity between us arose from his contempt at my subsequent endeavor to make my fortune ... through an advantageous marriage ..." He would leave her to further interpret that statement.

"Oh, so the 'great man' thought he could buy you out of your rightful position with some meager compensation. What did he give you, thirty pounds? Then he took offense at your seeking out an heiress to make up for his deficiencies? Hateful Man!" Miss Elizabeth replied, clinging to her indignation.

"It was closer to," he paused and winced as he divulged the information, "three thousand."

"So much!" Miss Elizabeth was visibly startled.

"I do maintain that the sum provided was not sufficient to survive upon in the style I was raised, not sufficient to replace the stable income, and that Mr. Darcy could have done more to see to my future as his father intended." He reasoned, though the arguments now seemed hollow even to his own ears.

"Why, that is three times my own inheritance!" Miss Elizabeth said, her color rising and eyes flashing, her earlier anger at Mr. Darcy redirected now at himself. "This does shed a different light on the incident. I might ask why you chose to first spin these falsehoods only to recant at a later date." She cast an apprehensive glare in his direction. "This says nothing good for your constancy or reliability, Mr. Wickham!"

"I do beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth," he said, dramatically posed with his hand over his heart, "but having grown up in the shadow of the great family at Pemberly, the novelty of a young lady who might prefer the son of the steward to the heir was too tempting to resist." At this her face softened to allow a trace of pity. Nonetheless he needed to forge ahead. "I felt the need to recant the story when I arrived here tonight and saw Darcy's interest in you."

"Interest do you call it?" She laughed, "he is constantly staring at me to find fault. I can find no other explanation than that he somehow finds more fault in me than the rest of the company," she stated with a shrug.

Wickham could not repress the laugh that bubbled out of him. "My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have known Darcy since we were both in leading strings. I have seen his scorn for those beneath him in rank, I have witnessed his responses to those inferior in wit or breeding or manner or morality. I am adept at interpreting the feelings behind his social facade and I can assure you his response to you is new. Yes, I'd say _interest_ is putting it mildly."

The delicious look of bewilderment tinged with horror that met this assertion almost made the painful confession worth it. Her discomposure at the possibility that Darcy liked her was a stark contrast to her nonchalance at her insistence that he despised her. Alas, the moment was broken by the approach of her obsequious cousin, Mr. Collins. "Good evening Mr. Wickham," he said as he bowed far less solicitously than he would to nearly any other gentleman present. He then turned to Miss Elizabeth and said in a sickly-sweet voice, "my dear cousin, the music is about to begin. I do believe we are engaged for the first two dances."

* * *

Darcy watched the discussion between Wickham and Elizabeth – Miss Elizabeth – with increasing alarm. He had been aware that Bingley had invited the whole regiment to the ball, but he scarcely thought that bounder would have the effrontery to attend after what he attempted to do to Georgiana the previous summer. _First he targets my dear sister,_ he thought as he watched Wickham deliver one of those dandified bows that women swooned over, _and now he's going after my Elizabeth!_ When they both turned in his direction he quickly averted his eyes, shifting to face the mirror. He was happy for the support of the mantle as he glared at their reflections, overcome by unaccustomed emotions. The easy smile she gave that scoundrel pierced his heart. He may not be able to marry Elizabeth himself, but he would be damned if he could let her fall prey to an adventurer! When her eyes suddenly flashed at Wickham in the same way they often flashed when bantering with Darcy himself he could scarcely bear the stab of hurt and jealousy that wracked him. He had struggled to contain the emotions that Miss Bennet's presence in his life evoked, but to see the woman he loved targeted by a reprobate was insupportable. _Love._ That word ricocheted through his brain. Love was not intended to be part of the marital equation. He was a gentleman. Marriage should be about finding a suitable woman of good family, good fortune, and good connections. The razor wit and dazzling eyes of Miss Elizabeth Bennet could not make up for her lack in those essential criteria. And yet his heart would not let her go.

Miss Bingley approached and attempted to draw him into a conversation about vulgar country manners and fashions on display, but his attention would not waiver. Her venom towards her guests and her platitudes for himself washed to the background as he watched Miss Elizabeth sally a witty remark with a shrug toward Wickham. The bounder's response transformed her smiling countenance to a look of shocked disbelief. A short portly fellow approached and led Elizabeth away. Darcy was immediately on the move. Whatever that reprobate had in mind for his Elizabeth would not stand. He abruptly disappeared into the crowd and made his way toward Wickham, leaving a stunned Miss Bingley gaping after him.

* * *

As soon as she departed, Wickham looked again for Darcy, but he had relinquished his post at the mantle. Miss Bingley, however, was staring just past his right shoulder, a solicitous look on her face. That could mean only one thing.

"Wickham!"

Twisting around he came face to face with an irate Darcy. How odd, When Darcy had discovered his plot to elope with Georgiana he had maintained his stony facade while coldly scolding and berating him for his behavior. True, Wickham had seen the anger and betrayal teeming in his eyes, but a casual observer would detect no display of emotion in the icy sermon he had read him. However, after only a brief conversation with Miss Elizabeth Bennet in a crowded ballroom Darcy's face contorted with rage.

"Good evening Darcy," Wickham stated with a formal bow.

"If you think for one moment that I will stand by and allow you to harm Eliz... Miss Bennet in any way you are sorely mistaken!" Darcy hissed in a low voice. "I know who you are, I know what you are capable of, and I will not stand for it!"

"Come now Darcy, I do believe that this is the first time in our long acquaintance that I've been the cooler head in an argument. I haven't seen this much emotion on your face since we were seven and I broke your favorite fishing rod. We wouldn't want to draw a crowd now, would we?"

The anger in his eyes intensified, but Darcy's mask of indifference slipped back into place. "I must ask what your intentions toward Miss Bennet are."

"Well, we both know that as you are neither her father nor her brother. You can not claim that right," Wickham retorted. "Unless, of course, I should wish you joy?" He grinned at Darcy's sputtered denial, "do not worry Darcy. As you well know, Miss Elizabeth is not a woman I can afford to pursue; she has nothing to fear from me."

"Ah yes, as to marriage you prefer vulnerable heiresses, but we all know there are other propositions that could produce the shocked expression I saw on Miss Elizabeth's face."

"Honestly, Darcy! That genteel hypocrisy is as grating as ever. Because I was not born the heir to an estate I do require a bride with a fortune in order to make my way as the gentleman your father raised me to be. While this may make me mercenary, I am not a cad. I would not insult Miss Bennet with any proposal less than marriage. And yet, because you were born the heir to an estate, you undoubtedly will talk yourself out of pursuing Miss Elizabeth because she has no dowry and low connections, even if you do love her and you have enough funds and connections for the both of you."

"My feelings are irrelevant to this discussion."

"Spoken as a true cold, English gentleman." Wickham responded sardonically. "However, your feelings are entirely relevant to Miss Elizabeth's expression. She was under the impression that you despised her, I merely informed her that your stare was one of interest, not derision."

"What!" shouted Darcy in shock. Glancing at the looks of interest from the surrounding guests he took a calming breath and modulated his volume. "She thought I despised her? Why? What do you know about my feelings anyway?"

"It would seem that staring from across the room with a reproachful glare can give a woman the wrong impression. Who would have thought!" chided Wickham. "As to your feelings, as your oldest friend" (here Darcy gave a quelling glance) "I am rather acquainted with that disdainful mask you wear in public, yet if you know what to look for, your eyes can be rather telling. Who would have thought that the stoic Mr. Darcy of Pemberley would ever fall in love … with an unsuitable woman at that!"

"Miss Bennet is not unsuitable! Her father is a gentleman, she is witty, beautiful, caring, and is an accomplished musician!" At this juncture his eyes sought out the lady in question as she danced. She somehow managed to remain graceful even while dancing with a cumbersome oaf.

"Yes, but do try to make that argument to Lady Catherine! Or the Earl of Matlock for that matter! And have you _met_ her mother?" Judging by the pained expression in his companion's eyes, Wickham knew that particular arrow hit home. "My point is, your elimination of Miss Bennet as a suitable wife because of her low connections is as unfair and biased as my necessity for an heiress. At least I can admit that."

"Refusing to elevate the hopes of a young woman I cannot marry does not reach the same level of villainy as abducting a vulnerable young girl for her dowry!"

"Oh please, we both know Georgiana's temperament," Wickham said in an even lower voice. "Her shyness and anxiety in crowds leads her to dread participating in the season. She will detest all of the trials you will put her through to find a suitable husband: Having to be presented at court, being put on display at Almacks, parading through Hyde Park, singing and playing in front of crowds at musical evenings. I offered her an alternative. Yes, her dowry was my main incentive, but I care for Georgiana and would not have hurt her."

"Your altruism knows no bounds," retorted Darcy derisively.

"I swear Fitzwilliam, I had no worse intentions than any second son or impoverished earl who seeks to marry a fortune."

"Then how do you account for Georgiana's dampened spirits since Ramsgate! She's been crying that she can't face the pressure of the season ever since."

"Have you considered what your own assumptions have done to her spirits? You are her only brother and you assumed the worst of both her and me. She was already terrified of the season and now you have convinced her that her character is stained."

"I was only trying to do my best to protect her and help her through a difficult time," Darcy said with an exaggerated look of concern and pity.

"Christ, Darcy! No wonder she's been depressed if you've been looking at her with _that_ expression!"

"What would you have me do?"

"Have you even asked her what happened at Ramsgate?"

"She maintains that nothing untoward happened, that you were a perfect gentleman and had her best interests at heart. Basically painting you as a blasted hero who rode in on a white horse and swept her off of her feet. With those sentiments could you blame me for assuming that you'd seduced her?"

"Well, I rode in post because I couldn't afford a horse," he quipped attempting to lighten the mood. "If I was her hero its because I was saving her from the season. Perhaps if you had listened to her last winter when she repeatedly told you she didn't want a season, or listened to her after Ramsgate when she explained what happened, or any time she's ever tried to tell you anything important, her spirits wouldn't be so low."

"I just want what's best for her!"

"And of course, you always know what's best."

"Typically yes."

At this, Wickham gave him an extreme eye roll. "Oh please! Remember that time …" He then proceeded to dredge up a great number of examples from their childhood and university days when Darcy's own judgment had been lacking. Before too long they were bantering the way that any siblings with conflicting memories of the past are wont to do. The discussion was heated, but the rage that had roiled moments before had given way to lighthearted childish arguments.

After quite some time, Darcy admitted, "alright George, I'll allow you that one. Miss Aldridge did not want my help, I should not have pressed it even if it was the proper thing to do."

Noting the waning strains of the second dance, and seeing their approaching company weaving through the crowd, Wickham abruptly re-focused the conversation to the present. "Fitzwilliam Darcy concedes that he is fallible at last! And in that spirit I would give you two pieces of advice for the present. First, this dance is almost finished. As Miss Elizabeth will soon be freed from her fawning cousin, I suggest you ask her to dance. Perhaps you can even manage to convince her you do not hate her. Second, be wary of the snake approaching behind you, she'd love nothing more than to snatch you up and have her way," he winked.

"Must you always be so vulgar?"

"Yes," he gave him a smug smile. "I'd also very much appreciate an introduction to the lady."

"You just warned me that she was a snake!"

"She is, and she would make you miserable."

"Agreed, so why would you want an introduction?"

"You forget that I'm a snake too." He winked again just as Miss Bingley approached and slithered her hand through Darcy's arm.

* * *

The ball was progressing smoothly and she was a social success as its hostess. Yet Caroline was not happy with the evening's events thus far. As soon as the Bennet party had arrived, her brother Charles had abandoned her in the receiving line to escort the simpering Miss Jane Bennet into the ball. After suffering the odious greetings of their guests in the receiving line, she surveyed the room. Mr. Darcy was standing on the opposite side of the room from her staring intently into the throng of people. As she followed his gaze she was enraged to find that it was fixed on none other than Miss Eliza Bennet. For a moment she could do nothing but glare. She wished Miss Eliza a hundred miles off. Better still, she wished that Charles had never let this house in this unfashionable country.

Once she had composed herself, she made her way to Mr. Darcy. Her first wish was to solicit an offer to dance. When he did not oblige her, she attempted to display her sardonic wit with a critique of the guests at the ball, but all of her charm fell on deaf ears. He ignored her and continued to stare at the mirror with his back to the room. She was in the middle of a scathing critique of the youngest Bennet girls and their propensity to flirt with officers when Mr. Darcy left without warning or taking leave. Her gaze followed as he made his way through the crowd. Her first fear was that he was going to ask Miss Eliza Bennet to dance, but she was moving toward the dance floor with her toady cousin. Charles, unfortunately was about to open the ball dancing with Miss Jane Bennet. Something must be done about that, she was sure Mr. Darcy would agree.

As her eyes returned to their original target, she watched in shock as the typically stoic Mr. Darcy approached a rather handsome officer in a fit of rage. Caroline had yet to be introduced to the officer, but she assumed it was Mr. Wickham. She had heard reports of this new officer in the militia who had done Mr. Darcy some mysterious bad turn; she assumed this was he. Mr. Darcy had not given any particulars of the affair to them, but she was certain that Mr. Darcy must be in the right. What a pity that the handsomest and most genteel officer of the bunch was Mr. Darcy's nemesis. She began sedately making her way through the crowd to Mr. Darcy, but was waylaid by Sir William Lucas and his ridiculous platitudes.

Finally detaching herself from Sir William, she made her way to Darcy's side, seductively slipped her arm through his and purred, "Oh Mr. Darcy, you must rescue me. I've just been ambushed by the 'height' of Hertfordshire society and am in desperate need of sensible companionship." She stared seductively up at him and batted her eyes to ensure that he understood she meant that his was the only suitable company in attendance. Astonishingly, he merely rolled his eyes at her statement. Annoyed at this dismissive response she snapped, "pray do introduce me to your friend," in a peevish tone.

"Miss Caroline Bingley, allow me to introduce Mr. George Wickham." Darcy tersely made the introduction.

"Miss Bingley, your servant," Wickham said as he took her hand, cut a luxurious bow and lingered long enough to cast her a wicked smile. Goodness, but he was a man after her own heart. After years of such charming overtures to Mr. Darcy on her part he had never even smiled at her. Alas, she was quite sure that this roguish officer did not come with ten thousand pounds per annum and an estate such as Pemberley.

"The second set is drawing to a close, Mr. Darcy. Tedious as it may be in such a crowd, as hostess I fear I must dance." She hinted, brushing against his arm as she stared into his eyes. However little gallantry Mr. Darcy portrayed, he could scarcely refuse such an open request, it would be un-gentlemanlike to leave a lady without a partner.

"Miss Bingley, would you do me the great honor of sharing the next dance?" Mr. Wickham crooned, one hand covering his heart, the other outstretched in entreaty. _Oh dear._ She must accept or forgo dancing for the remainder of the evening.

"It would be my pleasure," she responded with a sigh and a brittle smile that clearly indicated her displeasure.

To her great dismay, Darcy disentangled her arm from his and coolly said, "If you'll excuse me," with a curt bow. He turned and walked off leaving her without even soliciting her hand for a later dance.

* * *

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was perplexed. Typically, she required some conversation of her dance partner, but as Mr. Collins stomped around her she could not draw herself out of her own thoughts and replied to his solicitudes with only the merest of automatic replies. Her conversation with Mr. Wickham had not gone as she had expected. She had prepared for the evening with more than usual care, looking forward to dancing and conversing, flirting even, with the charming officer. He was handsome and witty and had shown a marked preference for at her Aunt Phillips's card party and in his subsequent visits to Longbourn. His ease of manner and openness while he told the story of his plight had at once impressed her with his goodness and Mr. Darcy's villainy. This new information, however, left her questioning her initial impressions of both men.

By Wickham's own account he was a liar. While there was a grain of truth to his initial report, it was highly skewed. To cast him as the heroic victim and Mr. Darcy as the cold hearted aristocrat with no feelings for those below his notice. To some extent Elizabeth could understand his motives. Growing up as a playmate to a wealthy lad, constantly together and yet never equal, must take its toll on a young man's self importance. He was clearly raised by education and connections to be above the expectations of a mere steward, yet his consequence was constantly less than his closest companions. She must admit, her frankness about her own dislike for Mr. Darcy must have spurred him to take advantage of a rare sympathetic ear. After Mr. Darcy's mix of cold civility, disdain, and constant surveillance to find fault in her, she was ready to think the worst of him.

But then Wickham had disabused her of that long-held belief. He insisted that Mr. Darcy's glowering stares were due to interest rather than scorn. The silky way that he said _interest_ left no doubt that he meant attraction. Unlike his falsehoods against Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could find no motive for Wickham to lie. Why would he wish her to believe that Mr. Darcy felt more for her than he did? For Elizabeth knew that gentleman's opinion of her, she would never forget his hateful words at the Meryton assembly when he thought she could not hear. "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men." Why should she trust Wickham's interpretation over her own observations? She was, after all an excellent judge of character. Then again, if she had been deceived in Wickham's character, could she have been deceived in Darcy as well? Her thoughts were briefly interrupted by the sharp pain of Mr. Collins trampling her foot. Again. Espying her friend across the room, Elizabeth recalled that Charlotte had also interpreted Mr. Darcy's continual stare at Lucas Lodge as a sign of attraction. To own the truth, it did seem more probable that a man would stare at a woman out of attraction rather than contempt, but this logic applied to the standard sort of men with hearts and blood and feelings. Mr. Darcy was more like the automated figurines she had seen in London, following rigidly prescribed actions without deviation.

The first two dances of the ball thus proceeded with Elizabeth distractedly going through the motions with Mr. Collins while preoccupied with thoughts of Wickham, Darcy, and her apparent failure as a student of human character. When the dance ended, Mr. Collins left her to solicit a dance from one of his other fair cousins. Elizabeth, feeling the pressing need to consult on these new developments, sought out Charlotte Lucas. She was concluding her tale and expounding on the character of Mr. Darcy – "He is above his company, he refuses to interact with the local population, disdains our manners, and refuses to dance with anybody outside of his own party. Proud, insufferable man! He's the last man on earth that I could be prevailed upon to ..." – when Charlotte's face dropped and she motioned for Elizabeth to look behind her. As if conjured by her own spite and confusion, Mr. Darcy was standing before her, his countenance customarily grim.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _Third Dance of the Netherfield Ball_

Up until that moment Darcy had held out hope that Wickham's assertion of Miss Elizabeth's dislike of him were merely a cruel joke. However, he could not ignore the list of his faults stated emphatically in her own clear melodic voice. His heart sank, his feet stopped, and once again he was just standing there, several feet away from the woman he loved, staring. In hindsight, he could see how that may appear as disdain. He had never had the ease in company or the ability to converse with strangers that some men possessed, but his name and social standing had always filled any deficit in the parlors and ballrooms of Derbyshire and London. Miss Lucas inclined her head toward him and Miss Elizabeth turned toward him. Determined to change this pattern of behavior, he executed an awkward bow and said, "Miss Bennet, if you are not otherwise engaged, may I have the next dance?"

Her gaze went to her feet, to Miss Lucas, then swept the ballroom as if looking for some way out of responding to his request. Finally, she looked him straight in the eye and reluctantly responded. "Thank you sir, you may." Having engaged her for the next set, his instinct was to retreat and watch her from a distance until it was time to claim her for the dance, yet it was precisely this type of aloofness that led to her dislike. He would stay and have a conversation with the two ladies. What do women talk about? Georgiana barely spoke unless prompted, Miss Bingley mostly spoke about him, which was not a great topic in the present circumstances, Mrs. Hurst typically parroted assent to her sister's conversations, and he refused to take his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh as a model. Looking at Miss Elizabeth, a vision of her on her arrival at Netherfield when her sister fell ill, cheeks flushed, eyes brilliant, and petticoats six inches deep in mud flashed into his mind. They did have at least one shared interest.

"Miss Elizabeth, I have observed that you are a rather great walker. I have had little chance to visit the country outside of my daily rides in the environs of Netherfield. Do you have any favorite locations to suggest to a visitor?"

"Well, sir, the best view of the neighborhood is from Ockham Mount. Its raised prospect allows a breathtaking view over the rolling fields." A thorough summary of the various walks about followed. Miss Elizabeth spoke of her love of long rambles through the wilderness. The more sedate Miss Lucas offered suggestions for picturesque rides by horseback, as he found on inquiry that Miss Elizabeth did not ride. He thus engaged both Miss Elizabeth and Miss Lucas in a lively discussion for the intervening period. By the time the lines began to form for the next set, he had resolved on addressing another of her reproofs and asked Miss Lucas to dance the following with him to which she readily agreed. Happy with his efforts, he escorted Miss Elizabeth to the dance floor secure in the prospect of improving her regard without raising her expectations.

* * *

 _Would the wonders of this evening ever cease?_ Elizabeth thought to herself. The bewilderment she'd felt after her talk with Mr. Wickham was only exasperated by Mr. Darcy's current behavior. She was certain he had heard at least part of her recriminations against him and yet he did not defend himself or retreat to his solitary pride. Instead he had asked her to dance. _Her._ Apparently he now deemed her handsome enough to be tempted as she was the first of the local ladies to be solicited by the proud man from Derbyshire. While she had promised herself that she would never dance with Mr. Darcy should he ask, it was far too early in the evening to give up dancing entirely and she had no previous engagement to claim. She was certain that her reluctance in accepting was obvious to the gentleman and yet he remained to converse with her and Charlotte between the sets. True, for a gentleman who has lived in the world his conversation skills were appalling. He had floundered for a topic, and when he finally found one, the conversation was mostly carried by Charlotte and herself. Yet, he did offer a topic related to Elizabeth's own interests, remained attentive, and participated where he could. His request of a dance with Charlotte was perplexing. Was this an attempt to address her overheard criticisms?

When he had first entered the Meryton assembly rooms, she had noted his fine, tall frame, handsome features, and noble mien along with the rest of the company, yet since the fateful attack on her vanity that evening, she had scarcely looked at him but to find fault. She now allowed herself to take stock of the man standing across from her waiting for the dance to begin. True, his face wore the same closed expression that he always wore, _but have his eyes always been so expressive?_ As the dance begun, she admitted to herself that Wickham was right in that regard, the look he gave her at the moment was not one of contempt. Wondering about Mr. Darcy's abilities at making polite conversation, she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time with: – "It is your turn to say something now Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said.

"Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."

"Indeed" he replied, startling her a little by continuing the conversation when she had given him a reprieve, "I am already finding this ball far more pleasant than the last we both attended. But I had not at that time the honor of knowing any lady in the assembly beyond my own party."

"True; and nobody can ever be introduced in a ball room."

"Perhaps," said Darcy, "I should have judged better, had I sought an introduction; but I am ill-qualified to recommend myself to strangers. I certainly have not the talent which some people posses of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done."

"And yet, you were _tempted_ to ask me to dance tonight." Elizabeth said with a significant look at the word 'tempted.' Mr. Darcy had the grace to blush at the reference to his earlier slight.

"We have spent a week under the same roof and enjoyed many conversations. I need not feign interest in you." Elizabeth blushed. _Interest._ There was that word again.

"And Charlotte?"

"I confess I initiated the conversation tonight with a desire to speak with you, but after conversing with Miss Lucas for some time I found her to be an amiable well informed girl. And as I do not wish to be perceived as thinking myself above my company I asked her to dance." Elizabeth again blushed. So he _had_ heard.

"Under a prudential light, it appears neither of our conduct bears well under scrutiny." As Elizabeth returned his gaze, she wondered how she could have ever perceived contempt in it. True, his expression did not change, but those eyes burned her with their intensity.

"Apparently not," he replied ruefully. "I would warn that ease in conversation and the outward appearance of goodness does not always equate to goodness itself. Those who can easily charm may have insincere motives." Elizabeth could not help but glance down the line at Mr. Wickham where he danced with Miss Bingley. Mere hours ago, Elizabeth would have responded to such a claim from Mr. Darcy with a stalwart defense and the warmest reproofs against unappeasable resentment and the folly of pride. However after Mr. Wickham's confession she could only muster a weary sigh.

At that moment, Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving Mr. Darcy, he stopped with a bow of superior courtesy to compliment him on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear sir. Such very superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Eliza (glancing at her sister and Bingley) shall take place. What congratulations will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: – but let me not interrupt you, sir. You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching converse of that young lady, whose bight eyes are also upbraiding me."

During Sir. William's unfortunate interruption, Elizabeth surreptitiously continued her contemplation of Mr. Darcy's eyes. In the space of minutes they shifted from admiration of Elizabeth to annoyance at the interruption and the platitudes of Sir William. They briefly softened and returned to her face when Sir William referenced his fair partner, but squinted in suspicion at Jane and Mr. Bingley when he alluded to their future marriage.

To call Mr. Darcy's attention back, she retorted, "speaking of imprudent speech! Sir. William is the best of men, but should know better when to moderate his speech and leave speculation out of courtship. Jane and Mr. Bingley's feelings are nobody's concern but their own."

"Surely your mother would disagree," snapped Mr. Darcy. "It would be a most advantageous marriage." His voice was derisive and his eyes again cold and calculating. There was the contempt she had seen previously, as well as a challenge.

"Perhaps, but in the end Jane will follow the dictates of her heart." In her haste to defend her sister's honor, she forgot her audience and continued, "we made a vow to each other that nothing could induce us to marry but the deepest love." In his eyes she now read shock, disbelief, and longing and immediately realized her mistake. "Oh Mr. Darcy! What must you think of me! Please disregard... I did not intend..."

* * *

They danced in silence for some time after this outburst. Darcy's social graces, meager as they were, could not soon recover from hearing his Elizabeth speak of deepest love. In the weeks that he had labored to suppress his own feelings for her, he had consulted only his own objections to the match. Until this evening, the possibility that she would not accept him should he deign to ask had never crossed his mind. He had not even considered whether she was in love with him. If Miss Bingley had made such a statement, he would have regarded it as a ploy to elicit a proposal out of him. But he had looked into Miss Elizabeth's eyes when she spoke and now saw the mortification that held her tongue. He knew enough of her frankness to know that this was a genuine sentiment and not mere feminine arts and allurements.

He would be happy to continue the dance in silence if only Miss Elizabeth would regain her spirits. In all of the times he'd watched her dance, he'd never seen her so dour. Calling on his best mentor for easy conversation, he echoed her earlier sentiments in the most jovial voice he could muster. "Come Miss Elizabeth, I do believe that we must have some conversation."

"Indeed sir," she said, recovering herself somewhat, "we've covered the local hills and dales and we've discussed the dance and couples and the ballroom. I do believe we've had enough personal revelations for one dance, and we've censured idol gossip. What would you suggest?"

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books – oh! no. I am sure we never read the same, or not with the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least be no want of subject. We may compare our different opinions."

"No – I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full of something else."

"A pity that. I suppose there's always fashion, though I doubt I'd do justice to the lace and trim."

At this Miss Elizabeth's eyebrow rose and she finally broke into her usual dazzling smile. "Well that will never do. I suppose you are better versed in agriculture, what is your opinion on crop rotation, sir?"

Darcy smiled and replied, "It has vastly improved crop yield at Pemberley."

"Of course! We may have exhausted the scenic paths of Hertfordshire, but perhaps you could speak of Pemberley and Derbyshire; I have never been that far north." Having finally hit on a topic on which Darcy could easily converse, he spent the remainder of the dance regaling her with an account of his home and the rustic beauty of the county.

* * *

Miss Bingley had watched Mr. Darcy walk away in the greatest agitation. He had abandoned her yet again! This time, her fears were confirmed as he approached Miss Eliza Bennet. How could he not see the impudence of that girl? Nevertheless, Caroline knew Mr. Darcy, and she knew that he would grow weary of the crowd and retire to the library. She need only await her chance.

"Miss Bingley, I must compliment you on the elegance of this ball," Mr. Wickham intruded into her reverie. "The way you interspersed floral arrangements and benches around the periphery of the room to create more intimate seating spaces is an elegant touch. It puts me to mind of Lady Hethefield's masquerade ball last May. Always one of the most elegant events of the season."

She had all but forgotten his presence and was now surprised that the gentleman noticed such a detail and that he had been present at such an illustrious event. Unlike Mr. Collins's empty comparisons to the grandeur of Rosings Park or Sir. William Lucas's vague references to St. James's, Mr. Wickham had picked out a particular aspect of her preparations and correctly traced its inspiration to one of the greatest hostesses of London. "Indeed, Mr. Wickham, it was a sad crush. I've always found her combination of floral arrangements and seating to both break the confines of the crowd and facilitate discussions with ones friends. Were you present then?" Were it not for the fact that Lady Hethefield was a distant relation of Mr. Hurst, Caroline would not have been invited to such an event herself.

"Indeed, I was staying with my dear friends Lord and Lady Rutledge at the time. I've always found the largest benefit of such a layout to be privacy, perfect for a tête-à-tête, is it not?" He said with a roguish smile as he toyed with the lace along her sleeve. "Particularly at a masquerade. Though they do present thrilling possibilities for country balls as well."

 _Goodness,_ Caroline mused, _I must be careful around this handsome officer_. She noted their relative isolation from the other guests. Romantic gestures, silky words, and a dashing red coat could not compensate for the loss of Pemberley. "And how did you find the Rutledges? We were introduced last season at the theater. Do they not have a daughter just out?"

"Yes," said Wickham averting his eyes. "She returned to Shropshire mid season and was wed to a local squire. Longstanding attachment, you know." They spent the remainder of the break between sets discussing their mutual acquaintances amongst the ton.

As the first strains of the music began, Caroline noted that Mr. Wickham's florid bow was deeper and more elegant than his neighbors. He danced with a light foot and a fluid grace. When the dance brought them together Mr. Wickham stood just a tad closer than strictly proper, his hand lingered just a second longer than necessary, as if he did not want to let her go. When the dance separated them, his eyes lingered on her with a smoldering gaze. All the while he amused her with salacious on dits from the haut ton.

While Mr. Darcy was superb dancer, his movements were always so precise and correct, as if he were practicing with Georgiana. Her presence was barely acknowledged and his manner always remained cold. Mr. Darcy danced around her, Mr. Wickham danced with her. Just as she was ruminating on these different dancing experiences, a turn in the dance revealed Mr. Darcy as he danced with Miss Eliza Bennet. In the years that she had known the gentleman from Derbyshire she had rarely seen him smile except at his sister. She had rarely seen any expression on his face save for the cool indifference of a personage who was indeed superior to his company. He had certainly never smiled at her. Yet there he was, smiling at Miss Bennet with such warmth in his eyes that it chilled Caroline to the bone. Her step faltered slightly, but then Mr. Wickham was there, smiling and claiming her hand as if she were the most important person in the room.

* * *

How refreshing it was to converse with a woman of his own ilk. The coaxing tones, the solicitous behavior, the lingering touch he recognized all of his own tactics. Granted, thus far these had all been aimed at Darcy, but he'd soon sway her to his way of thinking. She really was a talented hostess. From what he could gather, this ball had been entirely planned and executed within a matter of weeks and in an estate which had only recently been leased and had lain vacant for god knows how long. While the ball was not the grandest he'd attended, it did contend with many ton events he'd experienced. Her style, elegance, and taste was evident all around him. Granted, she was not the most beautiful woman, but once he coaxed her into relaxing and amused her into a genuine smile she was rather pretty.

In their conversation before the dance he'd laid down the groundwork. He called on his intimate knowledge with several well connected families of the ton to convince her of his connections – at this point she need not know how intimate some of those relationships were. He'd alluded to their isolation, and made some discrete caresses. The full assault came during the dance: unbroken eye contact, lingering hands, scandalously close proximity and a few well timed sighs. Seduction was truly the only art he'd managed to master in his lifetime and despite her town bronze, he could tell she was not immune. As charming as he was, he was also charmed. He had rarely met anyone who could keep pace with him in witty gossip and salacious tales. They were both unabashed social climbers, and amongst themselves, they did not have to hide that fact.

"Miss Bingley, I must say it is rather gratifying dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room," he said, embellishing slightly. "Why, there is not a lady present with even half the elegance of dress and comportment you display."

"Such pretty words, Mr. Wickham," she demurred, though her manner showed no hint of modesty.

He reveled in the fact that despite her single minded mission for the night, he managed to hold her rapt attention. That is, until she managed to catch a glimpse of Darcy nearing the end of the set. He was no less surprised than her to see him smiling. His stony mask had dissolved into actual enjoyment. Hell, he hadn't seen Darcy smile like that since they were children, on the last Christmas before his mother passed away. Good for him, the man had allowed the burdens of rank to suck the joy out of his life for far too long. However, seeing his own interests at jeopardy, he quickly focused on Miss Bingley. He walked her down the line as if she were a princess. Calculating the topic of conversation that would most revive her, he turned to their surrounding company.

"How unfortunate Mrs. Long looks tonight in that puce gown. Judging by the fraying hem, and outmoded style it has long been a favorite of hers."

"Oh, the fashion of these country nobodies has vexed me so. Although, the poor wretches have so few options. There is no modiste of note in the vicinity. Louisa and I visited the shop in search of fabrics and trim and they have but the merest selection." Wickham valiantly contained his mirth at the mention of his first encounter with the ladies.

"I do not know that selection would much improve on the overall fashion of the neighborhood, for selection cannot improve taste."

"Oh, Mr. Wickham! You _are_ wicked," she tittered, regaining her spirits with a spiteful giggle. "Indeed no amount of taste could improve upon poor Mrs. Goulding's nose." They finished their dance in the high alt of disparaging their neighbors. As the dance ended, he delivered a final assault on the lady's affections. As he offered her is arm to escort off of the dance floor, he pulled her arm tight against his side, holding her there even as she introduced him to her sister. Then he bowed low and placed a lingering kiss on her hand, without breaking eye contact. He backed away slowly with a hand over his heart, shook his head slightly, delivered a romantic sigh and reluctantly turned and walked away from her. Although he had performed such a maneuver countless times with countless women, he found to his astonishment that he was indeed sorry to be walking away from Miss Bingley.

* * *

Mrs. Louisa Hurst stood along the wall watching the dancers. Across the room she saw her husband impatiently tap his glass for yet another refill. If she wished for a second dance with her husband this evening it would have to be soon. He enjoyed food too much to surrender to drink before dinner but for dancing she needed him moderately steady on his feet. At least he had yet to move to the card room to gamble away more of her dowry. By society standards she had married well. The Hursts were a proud old family with connections to the aristocracy and impeccable breeding. Her husband owned a charming estate in Scarborough and a house in town. To be sure, they were land rich and cash poor. But Louisa saw her opportunity and took it. Even noble families were not above connections to trade if it kept them fed and clothed and – most importantly for Mr. Hurst – drunk. His relations tolerated her because they knew that without her dowry they would be destitute; however, they never truly accepted her.

She had no illusions that her husband loved her. His vices were so strong that he scarcely opened his eyes for anything other than fine wine, fine food, gambling, or sport in that order – sadly the wine led to poor performance at the card tables and dangerous conditions at the hunt. Thankfully, he was prone to merely drink himself into slumber and indolence and was not vicious or violent when in his cups. However, this over-indulgence also left him incapacitated most evenings, so her wifely duties were infrequent and brief. After three years of marriage they were still childless, a fault her mother-in-law placed at her feet. She knew it was her duty as a gentleman's wife to bear a son and continue the succession, yet it was hardly a task she could accomplish on her own. Upon reflection she realized that while she had married advantageously, she had certainly not married well.

It pained her to see Caroline's attempts to form just such an alliance. She had shared her disappointments in her own marriage with her sister, but Caroline was too determined to pay her any heed. Of course, Mr. Darcy was nothing like Mr. Hurst. He was unlikely to overindulge or mistreat her sister. He was far too prudent to gamble away his fortune. Yet she had seen Mr. Darcy flee her poor sister at least twice already this evening. Caroline may be willfully blind to the gentleman's dislike for her, but Louisa suffered no such illusions. The man had never been more than civil to her sister and often times he was not even that. Early in their acquaintance, Louisa had endeavored to curb Caroline's overbearing solicitude to Mr. Darcy. She pointed out to her sister that the more aggressively she pursued him the further he tried to distance himself. For a while, Caroline had heeded this advice and attempted to make him jealous by flirting with other men. A few eligible suitors had even offered for her, but none were as illustrious as Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, when this rouse was met with indifference rather than jealousy, Caroline decided that she had to redouble her attempts to gain his attention. Louisa had long since given up hope of positively influencing her sister, and so now merely complacently agreed with her schemes.

Though Mr. Darcy was the most eligible bachelor of their acquaintance and Pemberley the grandest estate she'd seen, she knew that her sister would ultimately regret marrying a man who was incapable of love. Although his fortune would keep Caroline comfortable it also took away the one solace Louisa had in her own marriage. Mr. Hurst and all of his relations knew that her dowry was necessary for their salvation and approved of her out of that necessity. They had both received benefit from their marriage, with the capital available to them. Mr. Darcy had no need of Caroline's money and she would bring no other assets to the marriage other than herself. If she went through with this entrapment he would always resent her. His relations would despise her as a presumptuous upstart and a fortune hunter. They would have no inducement to sanction her marriage.

Recalling herself to her surroundings, she looked up to see Caroline dancing with a handsome young officer. She was smiling, he was charming, and they moved effortlessly together. _This is the kind of courtship she deserves. She deserves butterflies in her stomach and skin that tingles to his touch, not cold calculation and entrapment._ She had often observed her sister dancing with Mr. Darcy and had noted that his behavior towards Caroline was no different than towards herself, or any other young lady for that matter. Just to prove herself correct, she let her gaze travel down the line to Mr. Darcy. As expected, his stony glare focused on Miss Elizabeth Bennet as he delivered some form of reproof. His reaction to her response shocked Louisa, his stony mask dissolved to show shock and consternation. The pair fell silent for several moments and his face became pensive with dismay. When their conversation resumed, he smiled! That smile grew when Miss Elizabeth flashed him one of those impertinent grins of hers. They continued in this attitude until the last strains of the song, looking for all the world like a pair of lovers. As the dance ended, the handsome officer escorted Caroline to her side.

"Louisa, may I present Mr. George Wickham, who lately enlisted in the -shire militia," Caroline said blushing slightly as the gentleman held her close, "Mr. Wickham, this is my sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst."

"Mrs. Hurst, it is a pleasure." He managed a slight bow of the head without releasing her sister.

"Mr. Wickham," she curtsied. She then watched in amusement as Mr. Wickham made the grandest show of taking his leave of her enraptured sister.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 _Fourth Dance of the Netherfield Ball_

"I see you've found at least one officer who can please you amongst the sea of red coats present this evening," Louisa teased.

Caroline blushed. "Indeed, Mr. Wickham has such charming manners. I find I can talk to him almost as I talk to you."

"That endorsement is probably not the comparison poor Mr. Wickham would wish from you."

"I mean to say, he is quite willing to engage in the types of gossip and criticisms that you and I enjoy but can rarely draw Charles or Mr. Darcy into. He has the most discerning eye for sartorial misadventures."

"A rare quality indeed for a gentleman."

"He proclaimed that it was clear not a woman in the room aside from me – and you my dear sister," she added at Louisa's sullen look, "had access to a suitable mantua maker or the sense of taste to put them to good service if they had." She smiled at his pretty words and his easy charm.

"True."

"Of course, he has a wide range of acquaintance in London, and detected the influence of Lady Hethefield in our ballroom design." The tinkling laughter of Miss Eliza Bennet penetrated her happy reverie and she turned to see Mr. Darcy still standing with her and Miss Lucas. Recalled to her purpose, she addressed her sister on the task at hand.

"All is prepared for my excursion to the library with Mr. Darcy tonight," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. "I've asked the kitchen to discretely place a tray with dinner for two in there. We could be in there all night, after all. I wouldn't want to neglect Mr. Darcy's needs," she said with a suggestive wink. Caroline saw her sister's face fall and attributed it to her lewd suggestion. She was surprised that she was such a prude, after all she was the married woman amongst them.

"Are you sure then?" Louisa asked softly.

"Oh yes, if I'm to be compromised in the eyes of society I may as well be compromised in fact and he is, after all a man. Given sufficient temptation, he will succumb. Then he will have no choice but to marry me."

"But Mr. Darcy has thus far been so cold to your advances, are you positive you wish to condemn the both of you to a loveless marriage?"

"Louisa, I'm surprised at you! What does love have to do with marriage I ask you?"

"It has very little to do with mine, I can assure you. I would not wish a similar fate on you." Caroline noted the pleading look in her sister's eyes and did not understand it. Her marriage had brought her social standing, a house in town, a country estate and I know not what. How could she repine?

"I am truly sorry if your marriage is not all you would wish it to be, my dear. But this is the life we were raised for. Besides, I hardly think marriage to Mr. Darcy will be a chore." She took Louisa's silence as tacit approval and continued. "Now, we shall wait for Mr. Darcy to retreat to the solitude of the Library and I shall follow him and close the door. After about a half hour, you shall come search for me and inform the company."

Her plan would work. She would ensnare Mr. Darcy, and then she would have everything she had ever wanted. The image of Mr. Wickham as he had parted from her flashed in her mind, reminding her that camaraderie and companionship were not part of this future. Nonetheless, she had worked too long towards this goal to let her opportunity pass. An officer – Captain Carter maybe? – approached her and solicited her hand for the next set. She looked over to Mr. Darcy, but he appeared to be leading Miss Lucas to the dance floor. She sighed, if he was to be engaged for the next set, she may as well dance too. She placed her hand on Captain Carter's arm and walked toward the dance floor, mentally comparing him with another officer she had met that evening.

* * *

Elizabeth watched in awe as Mr. Darcy and Charlotte conversed about small matters. When he had implied that Jane was pursuing Mr. Bingley for mercenary reasons, she had spoken with more feeling than sense. An unmarried lady should never mention love to an unmarried gentleman; it was unseemly. Over the duration of the dance her mortification at her outburst had slowly melted away. Mr. Darcy of all people had put her at her ease. The man who had discounted her as merely tolerable and unworthy to dance with upon first acquaintance had not only deigned to dance with her, but he had seen her distress and exerted himself on her behalf. The man whose pride she had thought immeasurable had made a silly joke at his own expense to tease her out of her ill humor. His pride was certainly evident when he discussed his home. However it was not the conceited pride of one who looked down on others but the pride of a man who was part of something larger than himself. The tenderness and reverence with which he spoke of Pemberley, his family, his servants, and his tenants, indicated that he viewed it as a community rather than a possession. Her admiration for him began to blossom during that conversation. That is not to say that her initial impression of him was entirely wrong. He was keenly aware that he was the head of his community and did not socialize much with the lower ranks, much as he might care for their well being and respect their importance to his own success. Upon inquiry, she discovered that he had never attended a public ball at Lambton or any of the surrounding towns.

After the dance he had escorted her back to Charlotte. While their current conversation about the planned renovation of the church in Meryton was primarily driven by Charlotte and Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy was making an effort to participate. He still looked at Elizabeth more than strictly necessary for the conversation, but now those looks implied an interest in her opinions. Incredulous as it may seem, it appeared he also sought approbation for his own contributions to the conversation. His behavior of the past half hour seemed to confirm his assertion that he was ill at ease in the company of strangers, yet his deference to her guidance was almost charming. He was attending to her reproofs to the best of his ability and she could hardly expect more. The fourth set began to form and Mr. Darcy dutifully took his leave of Elizabeth, offered Charlotte his arm and escorted her to the floor. As the pair walked away Elizabeth reflected on this enigma of this man. Her musings were cut short by a silky voice alarmingly close to her ear.

"Miss Elizabeth! May I have this dance?"

She saw Mr. Darcy turn abruptly at the sound of his voice. "I am rather cross with you at the moment, Mr. Wickham. Why would I choose to dance with a self-professed liar?" She replied archly. Mr. Darcy was now stopped halfway to the dance floor oscillating between a mercurial glare at Mr. Wickham and looks of concerned entreaty to Elizabeth. She returned a soothing look wishing to convey that she was indeed okay.

"Ah, but remember that I am a _repentant_ liar, had I been caught up in a lie it would be a different monster entirely. I come in friendship."

Elizabeth must admit that she wished to hear more of Mr. Wickham's story. After a moment of deliberation, she agreed.

* * *

Darcy had been so pleased with the progress he was making. Miss Elizabeth had returned to her charming self and between her bewitching smiles and Miss Lucas's calming demeanor, he had passed a far more natural conversation with them than he had previously thought possible. He was leading Miss Lucas to the dance floor with hopes for a tolerably pleasant dance when he stopped cold in his tracks and turned back. Wickham was beside his Elizabeth soliciting a dance. He raged at the man's audacity. He longed to return and save her from the cad, but the pressure of Miss Lucas's hand on his arm reminded him of his duty. He was already engaged for this dance and powerless to intervene. Elizabeth saw his distress and tried to put him at his ease. Her assurance was but little balm when not a moment later she accepted Wickham's arm and allowed him to escort her to the dance. His heart dropped to the floor where it was doomed to be trod upon by the lively steps of the country dance as he was forced to watch his Elizabeth smile and dance with an infamous rake.

* * *

While she did not aspire to Elizabeth's pretensions as a student of human folly, Charlotte Lucas was a shrewd observer. She knew that Mr. Darcy had agreed to dance with her for Elizabeth's sake just as she had known that a man does not spend the better part of an evening staring at a woman he dislikes. Mr. Darcy was clearly taken by her dearest friend and if his inattention to their dance was any indication, he was worried about Elizabeth and fiercely jealous of Mr. Wickham. After several failed attempts at conversations with her partner, she decided to switch tactics.

"Have you met my older brother Mr. John Lucas?"

"I have not had that pleasure." He replied without taking his eyes off of Elizabeth.

"Of course he has turned into a fine gentleman now, but as a child I'm afraid he was rather a toad." Mr. Darcy looked askance at her at this. She knew it was not terribly loyal to speak of her brother thus, but it had caught his attention. "As Longbourn is our nearest neighbor, we played often with the Bennet girls as children, my two brothers, my sister, and I. Being the eldest of the lot, John had an odious habit of tormenting the rest of us. One day, when John was home from Eton, he snatched poor Mary's spectacles and was playing a game of keep-away. Mary was distraught and rather blinded by this action but she tried fruitlessly to reclaim her glasses. I was too afraid of transferring John's wrath upon myself to venture into the fray. Jane, with her kind spirit, was making an emotional appeal to his reason which was, of course, falling on deaf ears. So Lizzy, who was quite seven years his junior, marched up to him and delivered the most scalding set down you've ever seen from a seven year old. She soundly took him to task for his un-gentlemanlike behavior towards a young lady and struck every raw nerve of pride that a young heir full of his own consequence could be expected to have. She then grabbed the spectacles out of his stunned hands, returned them to Mary, and demurely resumed her task of affixing ribbons to a kite."

Mr. Darcy still remained silent and his eyes returned to Elizabeth, but his pained, angry expression was now replaced with one of admiration. "Of course, Elizabeth has never been one to flinch in the face of injustice or bow to intimidation." Mr. Darcy visibly relaxed at this confirmation that Elizabeth could indeed manage herself for one dance with Mr. Wickham. Charlotte spent the remainder of the dance distracting him with tales of little Lizzy's crusades and adventures.

* * *

As he walked away from Miss Bingley, Wickham realized that he had no current destination. Like most of his plans, this one was ill formed and ready to sway at a whim. He had to be flexible and ready to adapt. He strolled the perimeter for a time and saw Mr. Darcy still by Miss Elizabeth's side and conversing with a plain girl just on the edge of the shelf. As Mr. Darcy and the country mouse took their leave of Miss Elizabeth, he took his opportunity to lay some further groundwork. The twist that this evening's plan had taken was particularly enjoyable. It allowed him to both aid Darcy and thoroughly discompose him. Wickham was now certain that Darcy was in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. After their revealing conversation and the smiles that Miss Elizabeth was bestowing on Mr. Darcy during the previous set, she appeared to have overcome much of her previous dislike for him. All that was needed now was a bit of rakish charm to force Darcy into action. With that thought in mind, he approached Miss Elizabeth and, after some demurring, secured her hand for the next dance.

"And what sort of monster are you, Mr. Wickham?" It appeared that the lovely minx would not let him off without an inquisition. "You give such varying accounts of your own character that I confess I cannot make it out."

"I fear I am no monster, merely a flawed man."

"You claimed that Mr. Darcy's anger was precipitated by an attempt to make your fortune through an advantageous marriage."

Blast. He thought she'd missed that part in her confusion over Darcy's admiration. "You see, Miss Elizabeth, not all men were born with independent means. We must seek seek our fortune elsewhere."

"I assure you, I understand better than some that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain, yet his anger seems disproportionate to merely seeking a marriage for mercenary reasons."

Wickham blushed at the censure in her voice and responded quietly. "You understand that it is a delicate subject and we may therefore discuss no particulars. While neither of us were deceived to believing ourselves in love, the lady and I had come to a mutual agreement. Her relations, however, would have opposed the match so we planned to marry … clandestinely. Some parties involved reached their own conclusions as to my methods of persuasion." Miss Elizabeth's indignant silence compelled him to clarify. "I assure you Miss Elizabeth, I have no taste for unwilling ladies."

"But the willing and foolish are fair game?" she said, glancing surreptitiously around the ballroom and settling her worried eyes on her youngest sister.

"I enjoy life to the fullest, Miss Elizabeth, and enjoy the company of those who live by the same principle. Who am I to disappoint a lady with such similar interests?"

"While your interests may be similar, the consequences rarely are, are they?" He could hear the reproof in her reply.

"Come, Miss Elizabeth, let us not quarrel."

* * *

Elizabeth wanted nothing more at the moment than to quarrel with Mr. Wickham, but they were in the middle of a dance in a ballroom crowded with all of the local gentry. Her mother and aunt Phillips, poised near the edge of the room watching the dance like hawks, were ready to swiftly disseminate any gossip to be had. She was also acutely aware of Mr. Darcy, whose gaze continued to drift back to her whenever the dance allowed it. She could see no benefit to continuing this vexatious conversation in such a setting for fear of her voice rising with her temper and if she were to stalk off of the dance floor it would cause a horrid scene. "Do you care to propose a topic to transition to from here sir?" she replied frostily.

"I observed you dancing earlier with my old friend Darcy, I must say I have not seen him smile like that for ages, and even then only amongst his family."

She colored at the implications of his statement. "Your concern for that gentleman's affairs is surprising considering that mere days ago you had no compunction against slandering that gentleman's name."

"Do you never quarrel with your sisters Miss Elizabeth?"

She had not expected this abrupt turn to the conversation and replied cautiously. "Of course, with five sisters under one roof, one could hardly expect otherwise."

"And have you never given in to the urge to vent your frustrations to a friend?"

"... Of course."

"Indeed, it's only natural, and I would imagine that this does not diminish your affection for your sisters but merely reflects the current circumstances. Now imagine that all of your friends, all of your relations, all of the servants, indeed anyone you know would always favor your sister over you in such quarrels until one day you found a sympathetic ear. You were my sympathetic ear, Miss Elizabeth, and for that I am grateful. However, despite our quarrels, I love Darcy as a brother and would not wish to see him hurt or unhappy."

Elizabeth contemplated his analogy for a moment. She complained either to Jane or Charlotte daily about Lydia and Kitty's flightiness or Mary's ill playing. "I see. And have you had this conversation with Mr. Darcy himself?"

"Lord no! Darcy is content to think me a reprobate and I have too little defense for my actions to change his mind. Darcy has devoted his life to doing what is right and proper and therefore has no patience or sympathy for my follies. For my part I find it makes him a dead bore."

The dance separated them for a moment and when they came back together she decided it was time to lighten the conversation. "Pray sir, how does Mr. Darcy comport himself amongst his own people?"

* * *

Wickham had to remind himself that he wanted to give Miss Elizabeth a favorable impression of Darcy. He therefore limited himself to tales of adventures the two had gone on as children, primarily composed of Wickham charging into the fray and Darcy sensibly bailing him out.

At the close of the dance, he watched Darcy bow to the country mouse and beat a retreat. He saw him move toward the exit and quickly scanned the room. He saw Miss Bingley's eyes follow Mr. Darcy's retreat and knew that the moment was upon them. Thankfully, Miss Bingley and Captain Carter had ended the dance at the opposite end of the line from Darcy, so she would have the length of the ballroom to traverse in order to catch him in the library whereas Wickham had but a quarter. He was about to excuse himself from Miss Elizabeth when she caught his arm and asked what was the matter.

"Nothing to concern yourself over, but I must take my leave." He said, straining to see Darcy make his escape from the ballroom then turning to see Miss Bingley disengage herself from her dance partner.

"Mr. Wickham, for a soldier and a rake you are doing an appalling job at hiding your concern or your quarry!" She admonished in hushed tones, "what is wrong and what does it have to do with Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley?"

Having no time to lose if he wanted to intervene, he conceded "Very well, Miss Elizabeth. But I must explain on the move." He glanced back to see Miss Bingley fortuitously detained by the country mouse that Darcy had just danced with and began walking the perimeter of the room with Miss Elizabeth. "Two days ago I chanced to overhear Miss Bingley explaining to her sister a plot to entrap Mr. Darcy and force him into marriage." At this Miss Elizabeth gave an affronted gasp. "She has tampered with the library door so that once the door is closed it will jam shut."

"In that case, Mr. Wickham, I shall come with you. My presence as another lady will ensure that Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy have a chaperonee and negate the necessity of marriage. If you go alone she will still be compromised by being alone with two gentlemen."

There was no way for Wickham to dismiss her logic without revealing his own intentions to replace Darcy in the trap. He rather got the impression that nothing he could say would stop Miss Bennet from intervening. "Very well, Miss Bennet. You exit the ballroom from this door and head to the library via the retiring room; I will exit from the next doors and meet you there in a moment. This will hopefully disperse with some of the gossip about our disappearing at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _The Entrapment_

To maintain the pretense, Elizabeth did stop by the retiring room first, stopping only long enough to ascertain that there was nobody within or in the corridor. She then proceeded in haste towards the library. Fueled as she was by righteous indignation at Miss Bingley's scheme, she hadn't paused until she neared the open library door to consider that she was risking her own reputation by slipping away to intercept one gentleman in the library while another followed behind. She knew now, however, that Mr. Darcy was an honorable man and would not harm her. She wouldn't allow him to be mired in scandal and trapped into a loveless marriage by a grasping harridan. She started when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Turning, she saw Mr. Wickham fast approaching and knew that Caroline Bingley couldn't be far behind. It would not do for Miss Bingley to see her enter the library so she took a breath to steel her nerves and quickly charged on.

* * *

In general, Darcy was a composed man who kept his feelings under tight regulation. This night, however, he had been assaulted with extreme emotions the likes of which he'd never experienced. Granted, he loved his family and had been grief stricken at the deaths of his parents, he had known extreme rage when Wickham had nearly eloped with Georgiana and ruined her life, and he'd experienced growing affection for Miss Elizabeth Bennet over the last weeks. Each of these emotions, however had come in turns. Tonight he had faced an unceasing onslaught. Though he was never fully comfortable at balls, he had looked forward to this night in anticipation of dancing with Miss Elizabeth. Before the dancing had even begun his equilibrium had been unbalanced by the unexpected appearance of Wickham, speaking with Miss Elizabeth of all people! Astonishment at his presence, rage at his past transgressions, jealousy over their flirtatious demeanor, fear that he would hurt her as he had Georgiana, and an overwhelming urge to protect her – these emotions had all flooded him instantly and simmered as the pair conversed. His conversation with Wickham had done little to calm this riot of emotion. For the first time in his adult life he had seriously doubted his own judgment. Had he misjudged the situation in Ramsgate – Wickham's intentions, Georgiana's feelings? Had Miss Elizabeth hated him this whole time? If he were honest with himself, he also felt a sense of loss for his former friendship with Wickham. Overhearing Miss Elizabeth's critique of his character removed some doubt, replaced immediately with despair and mortification. While he was bewitched by her wit and vivacity, she had examined him and found him lacking. The conversation with Miss Elizabeth was fraught with anxiety but also some hope.

Hope and anxiety had followed him into his dance with Miss Elizabeth but the former began to prevail as she began to understand that his behavior stemmed more from shyness rather than pride. Sir. William's interruption brought annoyance and suspicion. This was quickly dispelled by Miss Elizabeth's outburst that she and Jane would only marry for love. Despair. Fear. He knew now that she did not love him, possibly never could love him and therefore would never marry him. The dance ended with hope and joy as they teased each other and she asked about Pemberley. Jealousy, rage and fear reared up again at the sight of Wickham with Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lucas' calm voice offering stories of Miss Elizabeth's childhood warmed his heart, but could only numb the anguish he felt watching his Elizabeth dance with Wickham. After their dance ended he excused himself for some solitary reflection in the library. He wasn't sure what more could happen in one ball to torment him, but he was sure he couldn't take any more at the moment.

He was keenly aware that amongst all of these emotions, it was love that was governing his actions. Rationally, he knew that he could not marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet. He knew that her fortune, family, and connections were completely unacceptable for a man in his position. Nevertheless, he could not prevent his eyes from following her graceful movements. When faced with her ill opinion of him he could not help but address her reproofs. When faced with her discomfort he could not help but raise her spirits. Darcy would not typically label himself a romantic, but he was aware that his head was battling his heart and feared that his sensibility was defeating his sense.

"Mr. Darcy, I fear you are in danger!" Her voice penetrated his thoughts as if the cosmos had conjured her to confirm his musings. He turned to see her rush into the library after him.

"Alone in a room with you, I fear you are correct," he replied with a warm look.

She stopped short at this unexpected reply, "I am here to guard your honor sir, not attack it!"

"You mistake me Miss Bennet, I know that the last thing you would wish to do is compromise me."

"Indeed, I do not wish to see anyone forced into a marriage not of their choosing, that is why I'm here. Miss Bingley has plans to compromise you tonight." As she was making this horrifying pronouncement, he heard the distinct creak of a door closing, followed by the clicking of the latch.

* * *

After parting from Miss Elizabeth, Wickham tried to tease out how to salvage the shambles of his plan. He had hoped to usher Darcy out the hidden door and allow Miss Bingley to lock herself in the room with him. Miss Elizabeth's presence, and knowledge of the trap now made that impossible. He could follow her to the library, wait patiently with her and Darcy, and watch Miss Bingley's face as she realized her plan would fail, but that wouldn't serve antibody's purposes. Miss Bingley would continue in her dogged pursuit of Darcy. As he slipped into the hallway, he saw Miss Elizabeth glance back at him then hurry resolutely into the library. Then inspiration struck. If Darcy were off of the market, he was confident that he could find a way to console Miss Bingley and convince her to consider his suit. Darcy was already in love with Miss Elizabeth, and her questions of the last half hour proved that she was not indifferent to him. Darcy would marry the woman he loved, leaving a distraught Miss Bingley to his own tender ministrations. As Wickham reached the doorway, he glanced back to assure himself that Miss Bingley was not yet in sight, then swiftly closed the door and with a satisfying clink sealed all of their fates.

From inside, he heard Miss Elizabeth's cry of dismay and a muffled discussion followed by footsteps to the door. The handle rattled yet the door stayed firmly closed. "Hello There!" came Darcy's voice, "Is anybody out there!"

"Well Darcy, it seems you find yourself in quite a cozy situation!" He replied through the door, unable to repress the glee in his voice.

"Wickham! What have you done!"

"I have given you the opportunity to offer for the woman of your choice. I know you Fitzwilliam, you never allow yourself to act on impulse or consider what you want. You love that girl, but given enough time for contemplation you would talk yourself out of it and miss your opportunity. Now you can both do the honorable thing and be happy."

"Once again you charge head first into a situation without thinking of the consequences." Darcy growled through the door. "What of Miss Elizabeth? You have just ruined her reputation. I will of course offer for her and she will have no choice but to agree, but you have just taken away her ability to make that choice."

"Well, then, I suggest you do everything in your power to convince her to love you back."

"Can you take nothing seriously!"

"Can you take nothing lightly? It's not a crime to indulge yourself sometimes. Live in the moment, show some passion, be a human being!" Getting to business before they were interrupted by the lovely Miss Bingley, he continued, "now, it appears that a key has been broken in the lock, which means you've got until we can locate a locksmith to convince your lady you're more than just a proud disagreeable, stick in the mud." He heard a muffled oath followed by retreating footsteps. He smiled as he heard the ballroom door open and music briefly flooded out. He had is own task ahead of him.

* * *

Caroline finally managed to rid herself of the wearisome presence of Miss Charlotte Lucas and made her way towards the ballroom doors. Good heavens, you'd think the poor country chit had never been been to a ball before based on her inane questions about the decorations, how to organize caterers, which suppliers were local and which were brought in from London. If Caroline had any doubts before about the wilds of Hertfordshire she now had confirmation. She simply must get back to civilization. Tonight she would become engaged to Mr. Darcy. Tomorrow, they would follow Charles to town and never look back on this godforsaken place.

Pushing through the doors of the ballroom, she saw him standing alone at the end of the hallway, tall and regal with a head of curly dark hair. Odd that he'd still be in the hallway considering her delay in following him, yet she could usher him into the library easily enough. On second inspection, she saw that it was indeed not Mr. Darcy but Mr. Wickham! _Oh dear._ How was she to steer him away without giving away her plans or alerting Mr. Darcy to their presence. As she approached he turned to her and bowed.

"My dear Miss Bingley, I fear we may have a problem."

She noticed with rising alarm that the library door was already closed. "No!" She said forcefully. It took all of her control to modulate her voice so as not to be heard from the ballroom. "This can't be!"

"I've taken the liberty of examining the lock. It would appear that a key has been broken inside. As the door appears quite sturdy, they will unfortunately be stuck until a locksmith may be located."

"They?" she repeated faintly as she tried to maintain her equilibrium.

"Yes, the door closed after Miss Bennet and we were unable to open it again." He watched her face intently as he broke the news. "The young lady and Mr. Darcy will have to wait it out together."

"Miss Bennet? Miss _Eliza_ Bennet?!" She began to feel faint. All of her planning, scheming, and dreaming, all of it backfired against her. It was now Miss Elizabeth Bennet's honor that Mr. Darcy would protect, and she had no doubt that he would do the honorable thing. Through her own machinations she had forced the very event she had dreaded. The room swayed, she heard laughter and it took a moment to realize that the strangled noise was coming from herself. The laughter soon turned into gasping sobs. And suddenly he was there, supporting her, soothing her, holding her, grounding her. His strong arms wrapped around her, one hand gently rubbing circles on her back while the other cradled her head. Her initial panic began to subside and she leaned into his embrace, drained of energy and emotion.

"There now, Miss Bingley, all will be well," he murmured gently into her ear.

"It has all gone terribly wrong!"

"Perhaps it is for the best."

"Mr. Darcy was meant for me. He was to marry me!"

"And was he to have any say in that? Do you truly wish to be married to a man who at best tolerates you, at worst openly resents you?"

"I believe Mrs. Darcy of Pemberly would have little reason to repine."

"What of love? Passion? Mutual regard?"

"Those may grow with time."

"And you've had time with Darcy, I understand you've been in Hertfordshire for weeks and have been a guest at Pemberley on multiple occasions, have they grown in that time?"

"Perhaps not," she frowned at the reminder of her failure.

"Even if you'd had a chance before, now that his heart is engaged elsewhere..."

His words stung, but he soothed away the hurt with the gentle strokes to her back. "Were it not for that chit Eliza Benet, I would not have had to resort to stratagems in the first place" she replied sullenly.

"I know better than anybody of Mr. Darcy's implacable resentment, his good opinion once lost is lost forever," he said in a creditable impersonation of Mr. Darcy. "I can't see that compromising the man would encourage his trust, or any more delicate feelings."

She remained silent for some time. She knew his embrace was improper, but after the blow she'd received, she could not muster the strength to push him away. After loosing all other hope, she had nothing to cling to but this comfort. "Whatever is to become of me now?" She sighed.

"Tonight? You may send for a locksmith, return to the ball, smile brightly, and dance with dashing young men in red coats," he replied with a roguish smile. "I do not despair of your finding eligible partners. In the long run, I suppose you will return to London, go to balls, the theater, routs, etc. You will make merry, shine brightly, and find another boring stodgy 'suitable' man to be your husband."

Her only response was a weary sigh and to burrow her face closer into his cravat. Suddenly that option seemed less appealing to her than it had. She felt the full weight of her twenty-two years, her unfortunate chin, and her family history of trade. Darcy had been her last hope at a decent man of standing. For years she had thrown all of her efforts into securing him. She knew what was waiting for her in the London ballrooms. The 'suitable husbands' who would be interested in her were old, portly, and in need of cash. They would not be tall handsome and suave. They would not hold her in their arms for heaven knows how long merely to comfort her. They would not treat her as an equal or look at her as if she were the only woman in the room.

"Or..." he began.

* * *

"Or?" She repeated, looking up at his face. Her habitual social masks of either disdain or solicitude had fallen away. Her face was streaked with tears and her eyes were reddened, clear signs of the distress of the past few minutes; however, her face also displayed hope and longing. His plan was going perfectly, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were out of the way, hopefully getting to know each other better, and he was here, consoling a distraught Miss Bingley in his arms. A little more charm, a caress, a stolen kiss and he knew she could be his. But the look of vulnerable entreaty in her eyes gave him pause. He had just enumerated the flaws in entrapping a spouse to her. Would he fare any better? Once the shock and disappointment of her loss wore off, would she be able to trust him? Love him? Did he deserve her? Did she deserve to be saddled with a husband such as himself? These questions had never seemed important before but now, looking into her beseeching eyes, he felt they were imperative. It was a dashed inconvenient time for him to develop a conscience.

"Caroline..." he began again, allowing her given name to slip from his tongue as if he'd said it a thousand times, allowing her upturned face to draw him closer "I..."

* * *

A half hour. Caroline had given her a directive and as loathe as Louisa was to be part of this plot, she found herself heading to the doors of the ballroom a half hour after she had seen Darcy exit. As she stepped out of the ballroom she was surprised to find them standing in the hallway in full view embracing. This would at least make her job easier. Still holding the door open she exclaimed loudly "Mr. Darcy, how shocking! I see that your passions precede your announcement, but as a gentleman I shall assume that you have honorable intentions toward my sister."

The spectators in the ballroom turned agape, she saw two matrons pushing their way through the crowd to get a better view. She turned triumphantly back to her sister and her jaw dropped. The gentleman hastily stepping in front of her sister to shield her from prying eyes was not Mr. Darcy, but an officer in a glaring red coat. The same Mr. Wickham Caroline had danced with earlier. _Well._ Perhaps Caroline would find passion and romance in her marriage after all.

She nervously glanced behind her to see the guests crowding the door and heard loud disjointed whispers of "Mr. Darcy" … "Mr. Wickham" … "Miss Bingley" … "embrace" … "scandalous!" While she had created confusion as to the identity of the gentleman, enough people now saw and recognized him that it would soon be cleared up. Caroline was as compromised as she had hoped, just by the wrong man. Charles and Colonel Forster fought their way through the crowd and into the hallway. Louisa felt a slight pang that her own husband didn't see fit to join them, though she hadn't really expected it. The Colonel had the forethought to close the door against the prying eyes of the crowd. The small party gravely made their way down the hallway to the embarrassed pair. Mr. Wickham standing erect with a protective yet passably contrite look on his face, Caroline barely visible save for her hands that clutched Mr. Wickham's arms and the feathers from her hair bobbing behind his shoulder.

"Explain yourself at once Lieutenant Wickham!" ordered Colonel Forster.

"Well sir, allow me to begin by stating that I intend do the honorable thing, should Miss Bingley be inclined to accept my offer of marriage." Louisa noticed Caroline's white knuckled grip loosen slightly at this assertion. "I was walking down the hallway when I heard the door to the library close and discovered Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been trapped inside." This account visibly startled Charles as he tested the door himself. "It appears as if a key has been broken off in the lock. Miss Bingley happened upon me as I was investigating and became agitated when I broke the news to her, so I was comforting her." This was met with suspicious glances all around.

"There are ways to comfort a lady in distress without compromising her Wickham! This sort of behavior is what gives His Majesty's Militia a bad name sir!" The Colonel fired back angrily.

"Indeed, sir!" Replied Caroline, shyly stepping to Mr. Wickham's side. Louisa smiled at the one hand which lingered possessively on his arm, "I became faint in my distress and would have fallen were it not for Mr. Wickham's support."

* * *

Charles Bingley had never been a good man in a crisis, but this was his house, his sister, and his responsibility. Thus far he'd allowed the colonel to lead the interrogation, he was sure the man had far more experience in these matters than him. His sister's emergence and her statement finally urged him into some action. "Caroline, please sit," he said as he led her to a chair. He could not force her to remain standing if she was unwell.

How he wished Darcy could take this all in hand, after all, he was far more adept at managing these situations – but as he was currently indisposed – _well, I suppose that's another crisis I must deal with._ He then went to the library door and knocked, "Darcy, are you okay in there?"

There was a brief shuffling followed by Darcy's assurance. "We are well, merely trapped at the moment." The man seemed remarkably calm, he had expected him to be outraged at this turn of events.

"I have checked the windows, but as we are on the second floor and there is no terrace, there appears to be no other way out." Came Miss Elizabeth's sensible addition.

"Miss Elizabeth, is there a locksmith in Meryton?" Asked Charles.

"No sir, we unfortunately are not a large enough town for such an enterprise to survive, would a blacksmith do?"

Charles inspected the door, "it appears that the hinges are on the interior, short of a breaking down the door – which I would prefer to avoid in a leased house – I fear we must wait until a locksmith is located."

 _Well. What to do._ He must, of course sort out affairs between Wickham and Caroline. It would be best to announce the engagement tonight now that the gossip had already begun. He turned to the assembled parties, "Louisa, would you please accompany Caroline and Mr. Wickham to my study and wait with them. Now that the whole of the ball has undoubtedly been informed of their indiscretion, we must discuss the license and settlements."

Caroline was not the only woman compromised tonight. Thankfully, as of yet nobody else knew of Miss Elizabeth and Darcy's plight. Her family must be notified. Jane would know what to do, but then that was hardly proper. He thought of the thinly veiled insinuations that Mrs. Bennet had made concerning marriage prospects. It would be best not to involve their mother. Their father could at least be reasonable. "Colonel, would you be so kind as to discretely fetch Mr. Bennet to my study as well? Luckily you'll find him in the card room which can be reached via a left turn at the end of the hallway near the retiring rooms. That way at least you can avoid the gossip of the ballroom."

"At your service sir," the Colonel replied and swiftly turned.

Thankfully, his butler must have heard of the situation and was standing unobtrusively nearby. He tasked the man with finding a locksmith with the greatest speed possible, even if it meant sending a rider to London.

He was loathe to perform his next task, but knew he must. "Darcy, may I speak with you privately?" He considered a moment then amended, "or as privately as may be while shouting through a door." He heard one set of muffled footsteps retreat.

"Yes, Bingley"

"I can't apologize enough that this should happen in my home, I know it has put you in a tight spot."

"I know where the fault lies, Bingley, and it is not with you. It would seem that your sister tampered with the lock hoping to compromise me and force a proposal. Wickham, for unfathomable reasons, decided to free me from her clutches by offering up Miss Elizabeth instead."

"Yes, well. The party as a whole is too distracted with the news of Caroline's fall from grace to have noticed your and Miss Elizabeth's absence as of yet. I believe we can count on the discretion of those who already know. Caroline is the loose cannon of the batch, but as she was the instigator of this farce, I will convince her that it is in her best interest to hold her tongue. I will endeavor to keep the news quiet as long as I can, particularly from the lady's mother; however, her father must be notified." He paused, anxious to ask the important question. "What ought I tell him … regarding your intentions?"

"You may tell him that my intentions are honorable, given the situation but I will not force Miss Elizabeth into a marriage that is not of her choosing. And please direct him to me if he needs further clarification."

Bingley noted the cheery demeanor of his friend's voice at this proclamation. Far cheerier than he was in most social situations, even when he wasn't being forced to marry a woman below his station. "You sound rather well adjusted to the idea."

"Shockingly, I believe I am. Now, you have other pressing matters to attend to not to mention a ballroom full of guests. I have only one guest I must charm."

Bingley walked away bemused. He had, of course, noticed Darcy's propensity to stare at the second Miss Bennet, but had never thought he'd act on any such inclination. He couldn't suppress some mild giddiness at the thought that if Darcy found Miss Elizabeth a suitable match for himself, he could not disapprove of a match between his friend and her sister. He proceeded to his study with a jaunty step, anxious to return to his angel before supper.

* * *

That closing door had sealed Darcy's fate and he could not muster enough self importance or pride to be sorry for it. If fate and circumstance could collaborate to force him to do the one thing he most wished to do who was he to disregard it? Of course, the situation was primarily engineered by people and not cosmic forces. Elizabeth had hastily informed him of Miss Bingley's intentions, and Wickham had of course explained his motivations. He could hardly muster rage at Wickham – though he found his decision presumptuous, impulsive, and reckless – however, the blighter had been right. He was in love with Elizabeth and he _had_ been trying to talk himself out of love for weeks.

With Miss Bingley, however, he was irate. Had she succeeded, he would have been doomed to a lifetime of misery. Their marriage would incite even worse censure and social difficulties than a marriage with Elizabeth – Miss Bingley's parents made their fortune in trade and no level of finishing school or town bronze could cover that. His home life would be even worse than being snubbed by the ton. He had nearly been trapped in marriage with a woman he could not trust, respect, or ever love.

Marriage to Elizabeth, in contrast, would be blissfully happy. What would he care about the censure of his family or society as long as he could return home to the woman of his dreams. If he could but convince her to love him. He could imagine no greater torture to his fragile heart than to be completely in love with a wife who was indifferent to him. He would not consign either himself or Elizabeth to that fate. Unless she outright refused him, they would leave this room betrothed to save her from scandal, but he would give her time. They would remain engaged until either she loved him, or she broke it off. He was not convinced that he was up to the challenge, but by god he would try.

When he returned from his brief interview with Wickham, he was confronted by the sight of Elizabeth bent at the waist, poised on one foot leaning out of the window. The pleasure stirred at the sight of her derrière was swiftly replaced by dread as he realized how precariously she was balanced.

"The windows will never do, we're far to high and there is no.. Oh!" He had rushed to her aid, but she had righted herself before he reached her. She therefore turned around to find him very close, very concerned, and out of breath. She blushed and averted her eyes. He saw her discomfort, cleared his throat, and took a step back.

"I should hope that the prospect of being trapped in the library with me is not quite so terrible that it would lead you to throw yourself out a window. I must admit you had me frightened for a moment."

She leveled him with a brilliant smile and a raised eyebrow, "I was merely looking for alternate exits, but as I said, the windows will not suit, particularly as I am wearing a ball gown and dancing slippers."

"Indeed, they would provide far too little purchase on the stones. Did your search turn up anything else useful?"

"I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate that Miss Bingley had planned on trapping herself in here with you, she would never have provided so well for me. In the corner there is a table set with supper for two. There are two decanters of wine."

"How thoughtful of her."

"She's ever been solicitous of your needs Mr. Darcy." Despite her playful tone his mood went dark. This was no accident, Miss Bingley had not intended to let him out of this room a bachelor.

"In the event that we shall not be rescued tonight, she has provided pillows and blankets." She blushed furiously at the implications of that amenity, "there is an extra store of coal by the fire, and curiously I found a man's great coat shoved behind a chair. At the very least, I doubt there is any other room in Netherfield either of us would rather be confined to for any great length of time. Meager as Mr. Bingley's collection may be, at the very least we'll have some books to entertain us. All in all, it shall be a rather comfortable confinement."

"I am sorry that you were dragged into this mess, Miss Elizabeth."

"I was a fool. Mr. Wickham told me of Miss Bingley's plan, and her actions seemed to confirm it I rushed in to help. I thought my presence would prevent a scandal by providing a chaperonee. I never even considered that my reputation would be compromised. She likely would never even have closed the door had Mr. Wickham behaved as he ought."

"In my considerable experience, Mr. Wickham never behaves as he ought."

"Did that scamp give you a reason behind his actions?" She asked as she gracefully lowered herself into a chair. Darcy sat in the chair next to her.

"He was saving me. Both from Miss Bingley and from myself."

"Intriguing, how so?

"Before I explain, you must..." he paused, awkward and unsure of himself, then mustered up the courage to continue "...allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." There. He'd made a beginning at least. He paused briefly to admire the rosy hue of her cheeks. Then, flustered, he continued. "While Wickham was somehow able to ascertain this within the space of a half hour in a crowded ballroom, he informed me that you were not only unaware of my regard but even thought I disliked you. I assure you that is not the case."

"He had intimated something of that effect to me as well, but I assure you that my own observations over the past hours have amended my estimation of you."

"Truly?"

"I suppose that I must meet your candor with equal frankness, while I cannot claim to love you as you do me, I can truly say from the heart that I no longer hate you." He would have been crushed by the weight of her words, but she had said it in that arch tone of hers, one eyebrow up, challenging him to be offended. He smiled. He hadn't smiled this much in ages. Possibly ever.

He sobered and said, "Miss Elizabeth, you do understand what the consequences of this night will be?"

She sighed, loosing some of her composure and replied. "I am compromised. If we do not marry, there will be little chance of me ever marrying. This would likely drastically ruin my sisters' chances of marrying as well. I am aware of the precarious precipice we stand on." History had shown that he was incapable of reading her emotions, however, while she appeared resigned, she did not seem angry or distraught.

"I am bound to you in honor, but also by love. I can conceive of nothing in the world that would bring me greater joy or fulfillment than marrying you. However, I will not rush you. I propose that we become engaged to quell the scandal, but do not set a date. I can then take the time to court you and hopefully win your heart." She reached her hand out to him and he could not resist kissing it before taking it in his own. It felt right to hold her hand in his, both new and exciting and yet familiar and comforting.

Though her tone was more sombre than her typical lively banter, she smiled slightly and responded. "That sounds like a reasonable plan Mr. Darcy. I accept your conditions and I appreciate your concern for my feelings." He smiled again in spite of himself.

"But you still haven't explained how he has saved you from yourself," she quirked her eyebrow as her tone once again turned playful.

"Though we have not had much contact in recent years, and what we have had was … unpleasant … Wickham and I were raised together at Pemberley."

"Yes, he amused me with tales of Young Master Fitzwilliam while we danced. Whatever your unpleasant memories, you should know that he loves you as a brother."

"That is hardly the declaration of love I'd like to hear tonight," he said trying to match her teasing demeanor, yet fearing his voice held more truth than mirth. "As I was saying, he was raised in my household, and therefore is well acquainted with both my family's and my own faults. He foresaw that although I loved you, certain … concerns … may have prevented me from acting on my feelings. When you preceded him into the library, he thought to force my hand as it were."

"Given the circumstances, sir, I would like to know what these concerns are."

"I hardly think that will be conducive to our future happiness. They do not do me much credit."

"How are we to overcome obstacles if we do not discuss them? Shall I begin then? I'm afraid that you are rather proud and make little attempt to mingle with those you deem beneath you. I know now that you are ill at ease in new company and that is a hindrance. But if we were to spend six months of the year at Pemberley and you do not choose to mix with the local population, I am afraid of becoming too isolated. I will be separated from my family and friends and, as you may have noticed, I greatly enjoy company."

"I confess I heard your comments to Miss Lucas earlier and perceived that this might be a problem. However, I did attempt to correct my behavior this evening. Speaking with Miss Lucas was far easier with you by my side. Perhaps you may serve as my ambassador."

"Ambassador implies that I would be there in your stead, do you wish to spend our married life separate? Perhaps you merely need practice at social engagement."

"Ah yes, but one does not learn an instrument or a language by practice alone, perhaps what I require is a tutor."

"Point granted, I will serve as your tutor as long as you do not isolate us from company." She smiled and it nearly took his breath away. "Now, I believe I may have hit upon one of your concerns with the other portion of my concern. Social inequality."

He blushed and averted his gaze. "I want you to know that I view you as an equal in intellect and wit, and you far surpass me in social etiquette and beauty. Within our home we would be equals."

"But..." she coaxed, anticipating his response.

"But in the eyes of the ton, in the eyes of my family, your consequence and family connections will not be overlooked. Your father is a gentleman, yes, but your mother's family is in trade."

* * *

Even anticipation of his response did little to lessen her offense. "I see. I bring little to the marriage apart from my wit and beauty."

"Elizabeth, all you need bring to the marriage is yourself and I will be perfectly happy. For myself, that is all I require. I apologize for causing you pain. You asked me to elaborate on my concerns. It is regrettable, but this is the measure by which you will be judged by society." He did look sincerely contrite about causing her pain. He cleared his throat uneasily, apparently unfinished. "The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to the total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father. Pardon me. It pains me to offend you.

"As your tutor in social etiquette, may I inform you that disparaging a lady's family is not the way to endear yourself to her." She tried for her typical playful tone, but even she could hear the bitterness in her voice. He tightened his grip on her hand slightly. She was surprised to find him still holding her hand. She had offered her hand in friendship and understanding to seal their bargain, and had not realized that he had not relinquished it.

He looked into her eyes, his face full of concern. "Please, Elizabeth," even in her pique she was not unmoved by the emotional plea and his use of her first name. "You must know that I do not include you or your eldest sister in this censure."

"You do realize that the only members of my family you exclude from this judgment are the two you have spent any time conversing with, don't you? Perhaps you may be hasty in your judgment."

"Perhaps I am. If it would please you, I will be certain to remedy that once our confinement has ended."

"What want of propriety could you possibly find in my father? He is sedate, well read, and intelligent! I believe you would find much in common with him if you were to make the attempt."

"Yes, you are probably correct. Yet he takes such great joy in watching the foibles of others that he has neglected the proper care of his daughters. When your younger sisters behave poorly, he is more likely to make sport of them than correct them."

"If you take offense at those who make sport of human folly, I suspect we may have a problem," she challenged, "for I too dearly love to laugh."

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours" he replied with a rueful grin. "You may laugh privately at their folly, but I have also witnessed your mortification at their behavior in public and both you and Miss Bennet make subtle attempts to correct your sister's improprieties without calling further attention to them. Indeed, you seem to take more care of their behavior than your parents." His eyes bore into hers, pleading for her understanding and she was unable to break the connection.

The spell was broken by Mr. Bingley knocking at the door. As if he could not bear to break their contact, Mr. Darcy stood, helped her up, and escorted her to the door all without releasing her hand. She was surprised by her own warm reaction to an action that was so comfortably domestic. They answered Mr. Bingley's questions and listened to his muffled orders through the door. Mr. Bingley confirmed their earlier suspicions, they were indeed trapped for the moment. She could not quite tell what had happened in the hallway, but it seemed to involve Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham drawing a crowd.

"Darcy, may I speak with you privately … or as privately as may be while shouting through a door." Her eyes met Mr. Darcy's and his hand pressed hers in assurance and lingered as she walked back to her chair.

As she sat down she reflected on their present circumstances. A petty voice in her head rejoiced in Caroline's discomfort, after all, she had orchestrated this whole mess, who better to suffer its consequences. Yet she could not reconcile her rational mind to the fact that anyone should endure a forced marriage. Mr. Wickham was less honorable than Mr. Darcy. While she could all too easily envision him making pretty speeches and professing his undying love, his charm and ease of flattery seemed to undermine the sincerity of the emotions. In this instance, Mr. Darcy's social ineptitude seemed to be in her favor. She no longer had any doubt of his true affection for her. His blundering confessions, truthful revelations of his concerns about her family, and insecurity about her reception of his advances spoke to more truth of feeling than Wickham's honeyed speeches could ever do.

Although still incensed at his low opinion of her family, she could see the justice in some of his observations. She felt the honor that he exempted herself and Jane from this censure, and felt that if he were to get to know her family better, understand their motivations behind their faults, he would not judge them as harshly as he did now.

"As of yet, the only parties aware of our predicament are Mr. Bingley and his sisters, Wickham, Col. Forster, and the butler." Mr. Darcy explained on his return. "The gossip of the ball is currently centered on Miss Bingley and Wickham. Bingley has sent for your father to apprise him of the situation but will attempt to shield your mother from the information."

"That is, indeed for the best," she favored him with a conspiratorial smile. "Were she aware of our situation, there would be no means of quelling the gossip."

He shifted uncomfortably and replied "Yes, well, should we find a way out of this room before the close of the ball, we may announce our engagement without the lingering stigma of scandal. However, if we are not able to free ourselves before your party depart, we shall scarcely be able to avoid detection."

"Yes, my mother would notice even her least favorite daughter's absence in the confines of a carriage." She had said it lightheartedly, but she noticed the look of incredulity cross his face when she mentioned her mother's opinion of herself. "In any event, I assure you my mother will contrive to be the last carriage to leave Netherfield this evening, so hopefully the damage may yet be contained."

"Yes, your mother does seem rather determined," he said gravely.

"Oh dear." Her comment had merely re-opened a difficult subject. "My mother's unfortunate determination in finding us husbands, you see, is a result of the natural fears of a woman with five daughters and an estate entailed away from the female line. Not only does she live in fear of being turned out of the house upon my father's death to starve in the hedgerows, but she takes the blame upon herself. She failed in her duty to produce a son, so now she strives to produce sons-in-law. Although why she should take that blame solely upon herself I do not know. Each of us may similarly blame ourselves for not being born male for as much agency as any of us had in the matter."

"I, for one, am grateful you were not born a man."

Ignoring his teasing statement and the heat in his gaze, she continued "Yes, but were I a man, I would have been better able to protect my sisters. Besides, I do think I would have made a good sort of man. I chafe at the rules of propriety that condemn my independence and spirit, I prefer books to embroidery, I manage the household ledgers, I know more of crop rotation than my father, and I know my Latin despite having no access to tutors or university. I am my father's child. Though to be fair, I far prefer the Elegists to the philosophers and historians, so perhaps my feminine sensibility does intercede over serious study. Give me Ovid or Catullus over Lucretius or Pliny any day."

Mr. Darcy blushed at the implications of this. "If you find an interest in Catullus evidence in favor of your feminine sensibility, you are sorely mistaken. His scandalous poems of adulterous love are hardly appropriate for ladies."

"And we've come full circle, with me chafing at the confines of propriety. And yet," she said with a saucy smile, as she rose and walked to a shelf of classical texts, "I find Catullus 85 to be highly appropriate for our current predicament."

"While I'm gratified that you'd apply love poetry to our relationship, I'm afraid that my knowledge of Catullus is not as complete as yours, which is 85?"

"Fortunately, we are in a library," she said as she pulled a thin book of Catullus's poems off of the shelf and handed it to him. He eagerly scanned through and upon finding the poem in question, his face dropped. He read aloud:

" _Odi et amo_...  
I hate and I love. You may ask why I do this.  
I know not, but I feel it happening and am tortured."

"Quite fitting, is it not?" She said with a smirk as she reclaimed her seat.

"I never thought you cruel," he responded quietly with a wounded look on his face.

"That, sir, is because you were not paying attention. Or rather you saw only what you wished to see. For I have been cruel to you, I've intentionally baited you, started arguments, and abused you to any who would listen. Until this evening I truly disliked you, secure in the knowledge that you disliked me as well. Now that I find my dislike was largely unwarranted and I am finally getting to know you and your intentions, my emotions are in a state of upheaval. Furthermore, if you were honest with yourself, the poem applies to your feelings as well. You've stated that you love me, followed by a list of reasons that I am unsuitable."

"I will concede that I have been tortured by my emotions, but I could never hate you Elizabeth."

"Perhaps not, but you may grow to resent me and the events of this night."

"You know, I begin to feel that I would resent myself more if I had given in to societal pressure. If I'd continued to repress my feelings." Elizabeth smiled, but fell silent for several moments as Mr. Darcy looked at her anxiously. Such claims were a balm to her nerves at the moment, but would they stand up against resistance?

"While I appreciate that you feel that way now, this new understanding has yet to be tested. In our isolation, our worlds have been drastically reduced to just ourselves. While we are well provided for at the moment, we will eventually leave this room. Although the gossips of Meryton will, undoubtedly rejoice over your large fortune, they will also comment on my previous dislike of you. You will have to confront your relations. We will have to face the ton.

"I feel better able to confront the gossips of Meryton and the teeth of the ton with you by my side than I ever have alone." He reached out his hand toward her. At first she stared skeptically at it, knowing that he wanted her comfort, her reassurance. When she took his offered hand she was surprised to find she herself was comforted and reassured. "As for my family, you are not the woman they would have chosen for me, but I am my own master, I can make my own decisions. In any event, I am sure that once you bewitch them with your wit and charm the negative repercussions will be of short duration."

"And what of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" She asked playfully, recalling her cousin's soliloquies on the grand dame. She had expected more assurances that his family would come around, she was unprepared for him to pale and break eye contact.

"There is something you must know about Lady Catherine. It has long been her wish that I marry my cousin Anne." At this ominous pronouncement Elizabeth tried to retract her hand, but he held fast. "Please know that I have repeatedly told her that this will never come to pass, yet she clings to the idea. While my other relations will eventually come to accept you, Lady Catherine is the most stubborn woman of my acquaintance and will be difficult. However, she rarely leaves Kent and her reach is not as far as she'd like to believe."

"And are you willing to brave all of her wrath for me?" Although she had never sought his good opinion, she found herself awaiting his answer with baited breath.

"I would endure far worse to gain your good opinion, my dear." For the first time in their acquaintance, Elizabeth suddenly found herself shy. She averted her eyes from his steady gaze and found herself unequal to progressing the conversation.

After several minutes of silence, apparently sensing her unease, Mr. Darcy took it upon himself to lighten the mood. "Catullus aside, as we are now in a library rather than a ballroom, would now be an appropriate time to discuss books?" Grateful that he had opened a line of conversation that would at the least provide a distraction, they happily took up a conversation about their favorite authors.

* * *

Caroline numbly followed her sister into the study, her arm resting on Mr. Wickham's. Louisa sat herself on the far side of the room while Mr. Wickham seated her in one of the chairs before her brother's desk. She could scarcely believe how rapidly her carefully laid plans had dissolved.

"Caroline..." Mr. Wickham's voice came from closer than she had expected and drew her from her shock. He was kneeling before her, she glanced over at Louisa, but she had angled away from them and was apparently raptly playing with her bracelets. She focused again on the man before her.

"Caroline, would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?" She knew that she was expected to respond. Indeed she knew that she must respond yes or risk her reputation. If she were honest with herself, she wanted to accept. And yet, as she saw the vision of her managing Pemberley, becoming a society hostess, rich and wealthy and admired fading from her future, she was having trouble gazing past those images at what life could be.

"I know this was not part of your plan, I know I am but a lowly officer with no fine estate or independent fortune, nothing but my own dubious merits to recommend me," he floundered, his confidence wavering. "But I think we will do well together. I think I can make you happy. It would be an insult to claim that I love you after so brief an acquaintance and yet you effect me as no other woman has."

"I suppose," Caroline murmured sadly, "that I have little choice in the matter." She would not be entertaining earls or countesses. She would inherit no family jewels.

"Well, you do have a choice. If marriage to me is so disagreeable to you, with your brother's fortune and connections, I assume you would be able to live comfortably in a quiet cottage somewhere. I think we both know that such an isolated life would not suit you. While I cannot afford you the instant social standing that Darcy would, between your polish and my charm I'm confident we will find our way."

"How fortunate for you that my _polish_ is accompanied by a sizable dowry," she said bitterly. She had been so confident this morning that her plan would work. And now, to be taken in by a fortune hunter!

* * *

He was wondering how long it would take to get around to that. He could not deny that her fortune was his initial motivation for pursuing her. "I will not argue, my dear, that your fortune means nothing to me, for it does. But if that is your concern, perhaps we could make a provision in the contract that allows you autonomy to control your fortune, or use it to purchase a small estate in your name?" _Did I really just say that!?_ He had been in this situation before. In the past, when discovered in transgressions with willing women, he had always walked away when their fortune was off of the table. They had known from the start that their actions had consequences and had made their decisions. With Caroline, he had not only done the honorable thing and offered for her, but when she hesitated and gave him an opening to walk away, he had been gripped by the overwhelming need to convince her. Despite his better judgment and his history, he would not walk away. _Damn this pesky new conscience._

"How generous of you to allow me my own fortune." _Damn the woman, it is generous!_ Did she not see that this would put him entirely in her control. Without such a provision, her assets would immediately become his own upon marriage.

"Caroline," sighed Wickham, growing frustrated, "you may consider me a fortune hunter if you must, if you require a villain to blame for the loss of Pemberley. I just ask that you give me a chance, we are not so different, you and I." He reached for her hand and drew gentle circles on the back. At his touch, he could see her resolve begin to fade. "Kindred spirits even." Switching tactics, he drew her hand to his lips and looked into her eyes.

"I can offer you respect," he dropped a kiss on her palm, "passion," another on the bare skin just between her glove and her sleeve, "and if you let me in, perhaps in time even love." He placed another kiss to her collarbone and silently thanked Mrs. Hurst for being an inattentive chaperone. She had slowly leaned farther into him with each successive kiss and he now stared into her eyes. "Please, I'm begging you!" He'd said those words before, but never with true conviction. He didn't know what he'd do if she turned him down. "Please."

"Yes," she whispered, her breath fanning his face. He closed the gap and kissed her, slowly at first but with a rising passion.

* * *

"Good god Caroline!" Charles shouted from the doorway of his study. "Louisa, I'm glad to see you take your role as a chaperone seriously!" At his voice, the lovers started, and separated. He hadn't seen such a genuine smile on Caroline's face since before she went off to finishing school, where they had sanded and polished off most of her humanity along with her social defects inherited from her parents in trade.

"Really Charles, the damage to her reputation has already been done, what more can one kiss do?" Replied Louisa calmly. "Besides, Caroline required some soothing and I find I prefer Mr. Wickham's methods to her usual tantrums."

He knew he ought to be angry walking in on his unmarried sister kissing an obscure officer whom he know little about, but Charles Bingley was not made for ill temper. "Well then, I suppose Caroline's happiness is all we can ask in this situation. Caroline, is this what you want?"

"Yes, I believe it is," her reply was to Charles, but her gaze and smile were still fixed on Mr. Wickham.

"Aha, and Mr. Wickham, have you a question for me?"

Wickham rose from his position at Caroline's feet to shake Charles's hand. "Mr. Bingley, I humbly request your permission to marry your sister."

A jovial man like Charles Bingley had so few opportunities to exert intimidation and rather thought it his duty to do so in vetting his sister's intended, so he took the opportunity to look him over. Of course, he knew he had to say yes, otherwise his sister would be ruined. But he must make the man squirm just a bit, it was the done thing. Wickham was a tall handsome figure and filled out his red coat with distinction. Charles foresaw loosing many arguments to him in the future. He knew that there had been some unfortunate business between Wickham and Darcy, but what's done is done and he must make the most of this match. _How long should one intimidate a suitor?_ He was having a hard time maintaining a Darcy-like scowl. He took another moment to ponder the extravagance of gold buttons on the officer's uniform and how poorly that reflected on the budgeting prowess of the nation's army before he decided he had probably left a long enough pause to daunt the man. "Well, sir, welcome to the family," he stated, returning to his habitual grin and extending his hand.

"Thank you, sir!" Exclaimed Wickham as he shook the offered hand.

"Excellent! We shall make the announcement this evening before the close of the ball to ensure the gossips of Meryton will be satisfied."

The group spent some time discussing the marriage settlements in which Caroline insisted on having full legal control over her own fortune. After a while, Bingley announced: "I believe it would be more prudent to discuss the settlement tomorrow when we may consult my solicitor." The legalities of dowries and trusts were beyond his own humble abilities. The delay had the added benefit of consulting with Mr. Darcy on how best to conduct such business – so long as they could retrieve him from the library before the solicitor arrived.

"I shall be happy to attend you at your convenience."

Charles turned as two more gentlemen entered his study. "Ah, Mr. Bennet, Colonel Forster, excellent timing!"

* * *

Mr. Bennet was having a tolerable evening. While he hated the pomp and flash of balls in general, this one had afforded a few distinct pleasures. First, Mr. Bingley supplied a superb wine for his guests, procured in London and no doubt smuggled from France – served to a room full of officers no less! Second, the layout of Netherfield required that the card room was separated from the ballroom by a hallway. This meant that he could enjoy a game of whist with his neighbors without the presence of his wife, or an over abundance of lace. As usual, he was entertained by the level of folly his neighbors rarely failed to supply him. All in all, he was as well situated for a night as he might hope for at a ball.

Word had just circulated to the room of Miss Bingley's misalliance with a gentleman in the hallway when Colonel Forster entered the room and stood gravely to the side. The card tables were abuzz with discussion as to which gentleman had been caught embracing the elegantly cold Miss Bingley in the hallway. Those who had glimpsed the couple spoke of Mr. Wickham, while others asserted that it was in fact Mr. Darcy. _Mr. Darcy!_ The gentleman who never looked at a woman but to find fault. To think he would be so carried away with passion as to embrace Miss Bingley in the hallway was indeed an interesting twist. If he had to guess, he would venture that the young lady was the architect of the scheme. Living with his own silly wife and five daughters, he was unfortunately familiar with the designs women made to ensnare wealthy gentlemen.

The lewd comments, guffaws, and speculation around the table in regards to the new gossip distracted the players and it was some time before play was resumed and the speculation slowed the progress of the game. When his game finally finished, Colonel Forster – who had been waiting near the door for a break – approached and discretely informed him that Mr. Bingley required his presence in his study. As his wife had been in constant raptures for weeks about the prospect of Mr. Bingley marrying his eldest daughter he was not terribly surprised to be summoned to the man's study. However, this havey-cavey business of sending Colonel Forster in the middle of a ball was not what he had expected. His surprise was even greater when he walked into the study to find an assembly consisting of Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, and Mr. Wickham. What could the man be about?

"Ah, Mr. Bennet, Colonel Forster, excellent timing!" Mr. Bingley addressed him, with an anxious glint in his eyes, "has Colonel Forster filled you in?"

"No sir, I do not see what the business has to do with me" he replied, assuming now that the meeting regarded the assignation he had been happily speculating about only minutes ago.

Colonel Forster, understanding the sensitivity of the subject, closed the study door against prying ears. Bingley's face dropped and he stuttered "Ah... Uhm... Uh... Mr. Bennet, we seem to have a rather delicate situation on our hands regarding one of your daughters." This caught Mr. Bennet's attention and he prepared himself to hear of Lydia's latest folly. "Your second daughter, Miss Elizabeth has unfortunately found herself trapped in the library..." Mr. Bennet's head began to spin at the mention of Lizzy. "Uh... with ah, Mr. Darcy," Bingley finished sheepishly.

"My Lizzy? And Mr. Darcy? Will someone please explain to me what is going on!" He tried unsuccessfully to tamp down his rising anxiety. The assembled party all looked toward Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham.

"Caroline, I've spoken to Mr. Darcy and I know your part in this scheme," Mr. Bingley admonished his sister. "None of us wish this story spread abroad, but Mr. Bennet deserves an explanation."

"How was I to know that Miss Eliza would be so foolish as to follow a gentleman into a room alone?" Hedged Miss Bingley with an artificial smile. Mr. Bennet seethed at her.

"Caroline! Let us not forget that we have yet to finalize your settlement, the meeting with my solicitor will be dependent on your honesty and discretion regarding this business! I will not have you further interfering with Mr. Darcy or Miss Bennet's lives!" Mr. Bingley's tone held a hard edge he had never heard from the jovial man. At the threat Miss Bingley's face went pale and Mr. Wickham started in horror.

"Very well. Knowing how Mr. Darcy detests crowded ballrooms, I anticipated that he would escape to the library over the course of the evening. Knowing that a key had been broken in the lock earlier in the week, I planned to join him and keep him company." Mr. Bingley glared at her for this edited version of the plot. "When I arrived outside the hallway Mr. Wickham informed me that Miss Bennet had followed him into the library and the door had closed, trapping Miss Eliza and Mr. Darcy within. I grew distraught and Mr. Wickham was required to support me." Over the course of her story, Miss Bingley's face transformed from the ashen white of her horror at loosing her dowry to a bright red at having to recount the story to so many people.

Mr. Bennet, however, was not satisfied. "What induced Lizzy to follow Mr. Darcy of all people!" The angry gazes now turned toward Mr. Wickham.

"Ah, yes, well. After my dance with Miss Elizabeth, we became aware of Mr. Darcy's exit and Miss Bingley's pursuit," at this statement, Miss Bingley glared at her fiancé. "Miss Elizabeth insisted on saving Mr. Darcy from an inconvenient encounter and thought that if she were present, she could serve as a chaperone for Miss Bingley."

"Well, My Lizzy has always had a tendency towards rash actions to protect others. Though I never would have expected it to extend to someone she disliked as much as Mr. Darcy! Well, how did the door mysteriously close?"

Mr. Wickham glanced at the angry face of his fiancée, winced, and continued. "I became aware this evening that Mr. Darcy had feelings for your daughter, and I thought that some time alone would allow them to resolve their feelings."

Mr. Bennet advanced angrily toward Mr. Wickham shouting "Had you no thought, sir, of the feelings of my daughter? Did you not think of the damage you might cause her? You have doomed her to a terrible fate, she will be stuck for life with a man she cannot respect or love! How dare you!"

* * *

Tactician that he was, and seeing the mounting ire in Mr. Bennet, Colonel Forster thought it best to intervene. The last thing his regiment needed was a duel over the actions of one of his officers. "Mr. Bennet, calm yourself!" he commanded as he placed himself between the irate father and his newest and most useless Lieutenant, "do you not think it best to consult your daughter before foolishly rushing to defend her honor?" At that moment, a loud feminine laugh could be heard through the wall. He looked to the source and saw a tapestry, beneath which was a sliver of light. "What the devil?"

He began to move toward the anomaly when Mr. Bennet, apparently oblivious to the laugh, challenged him "I know my daughter's mind on Mr. Darcy Colonel Forster. She has despised the proud, disagreeable man from the moment she met him, now this fool has sentenced her to a miserable marriage! Your regiment has caused nothing but trouble and unrest in my family since your arrival and now one of your officers has effectively ruined my dearest daughter!"

"I understand your anger sir, I merely ask that you do not make any hasty statements. I am sure that cooler heads will prevail once we solve this situation."

"And how, sir, do you propose we do that. It seems a hopeless business."

"I believe I saw something of interest..." All eyes in the room followed him as he marched over to the tapestry and investigated. There was a curtain pull to one side, nearly covered by a bookshelf. He drew the tapestry back and secured it, revealing a door. A convent escape route for the unfortunate couple inside. He tested the handle and breathed a sigh of relief as the door opened inward. Another tapestry covered the opening of the opposite door frame. Offering up a silent prayer that the couple were indeed decent, he swept back the tapestry and stood to the side. Nobody was prepared for the tableau that awaited them and some mayhem ensued.

All at once:

Miss Bingley cried and again clung to Mr. Wickham for support.

Mr. Bennet shouted, "Lizzy! Are you out of your senses!"

Mr. Bingley laughed and responded, "At the very least it seems Darcy has taken leave of his senses!"

Mr. Wickham smiled over the shoulder of his intended and said, "Well, Fitzwilliam, it would appear you did learn something from all of those years I spent trying to corrupt you!"

Mrs. Hurst merely smiled and turned away, still playing with her bracelets, presumably to hide her amusement from her distraught sister, whose wails were echoing through the room.

Mr. Darcy reeled around to face the crowd, turned a bright shade of red, and again looked to Miss Bennet.

Miss Bennet turned to the company and calmly said, "Well, Colonel Forster, it would appear that your services may be required to subdue the discontented populace after all!" He rather admired that lady's spunk, she certainly displayed more courage in a crisis than many of his own officers.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 _The Aftermath_

While Fitzwilliam Darcy had undoubtedly fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet's impertinence, he was utterly bewitched by her solicitude. Her teasing insults had charmed him for many weeks, but her coy playfulness dazzled him. He could hardly bear to think what his life would have been had he succeeded in suppressing his ardor. After spending an hour alone in a room with Elizabeth he could not image returning to the world without her by his side.

Their discussion of books proved enlightening. As it turned out, they did read many of the same books. While they did not always agree to their interpretations or appreciate the same aspects, they were both well read and debated lively. Elizabeth still teased him, yet where before there was archness, there was now a sweet playfulness. She still contradicted him, and sometimes herself, for the sake of debate, but all the while they held hands, or shared revealing looks, or merely sat in companionable silence while they considered the other's replies. He had never experienced this sort of sweet, playful interaction before. He knew that his parents had loved him, and he believed that they loved each other as well; however, they had always been reserved, proper, dignified. His sister was more than ten years his junior, and therefore he had not experienced the type of childhood easy camaraderie that Elizabeth and her siblings obviously had. Of course there was Wickham, he had tried to play with typical childhood abandon, but his schemes were always a bit too risky or against the rules. Darcy had known that it was his role as the heir to Pemberley to be good, dependable, dutiful, and therefore he had pushed back from Wickham's schemes as much as possible. If he were honest with himself, there was a level of pride that prevented an easy friendship as well. They were friends, yet Darcy was always secure in the knowledge that he was superior.

Any sense of superiority he had felt over Miss Elizabeth Bennet had evaporated over the course of the evening into an equal companionship. In their discussion of literature, they had occasioned to reference various books from the library. Now that they had fallen into a comfortable silence, Elizabeth was quietly sitting and reading. She had tucked her feet under her and leaned closer to the candle for light. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than his Elizabeth nestled with a book, candlelight highlighting the ornaments in her hair and a glint in her fine eyes. The felicity of sitting in a comfortable chair with a book and a beautiful lively woman had never occurred to him. She glanced up at him as he watched her and smiled.

"You are staring again, Mr. Darcy," she teased.

"I find I cannot help it, you are the loveliest woman I've ever seen, and perched as you are with a book in your hands you present a most alluring picture." Had he really said all of that out loud?

"You flatter me, sir!" She blushed prettily.

"I believe you are aware of my deficiencies in social discourse. I find idle flattery worthless and inane. I speak only as I find. I can envision you thus at Pemberley of an evening, a perfect scene of domestic bliss."

"If your libraries are half as spectacular as I have heard, I fear that may become all to common of a sight."

"And yet, I cannot imagine ever growing tired of it." She looked down again at her book in embarrassment. Darcy feared that if he did not steer the conversation to safer territory, he may be overcome. "What are you reading?"

"Shakespeare's sonnets."

Darcy recalled an earlier discussion about poetry and was seized with a sudden desire to prove her theory wrong. "And do you maintain that poetry drives away love?"

"I do not find that reading Shakespeare from the lifeless sheafs of this book either proves or alters my theory." She replied with a challenge in her eye and held out the book to him, "without evidence to the contrary my beliefs are unchanged."

As Darcy took the book from her hand his fingers lingered on hers slightly longer than necessary. Although he had always been a moderate man, in good regulation of his actions, he found her playful challenge to be too tempting to ignore. While such an exhibition would be abhorrent to him in any other company, he could deny his Elizabeth nothing. "Very well," he responded calmly as he sunk to his knees before her and struck a dramatic pose. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?.." Elizabeth's hearty laugh was infectious, but mirth was hardly the emotion he wished to stir in this moment. He could feel the ridiculousness of his position and decided a change of course was necessary.

"No. No, you are correct my love, Shakespeare is a bit too cliché for an impassioned recital. Please allow me to begin again." He tossed the book to the chair and took her hand in his. If ever there was a time for Byron this was it. He gazed into her eyes and recited by heart verses which had plagued him of late.

"Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,  
With bright, but mild affection shine:  
Though they might kindle less desire,  
Love, more than mortal, would be thine."

Her startled gasp and rapt attention urged him to continue. He noticed with triumph that mirth was no longer her dominant reaction. He poured his heart and soul and all of the pent up feelings he had heretofore labored to suppress into this recital.

"For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,  
Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam,  
We must admire, but still despair;  
That fatal glance forbids esteem.

When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth,  
So much perfection in thee shone,  
She fear'd that, too divine for earth,  
The skies might claim thee for their own..."

He made it no farther into Byron's poem before the distinctive noise of an opening door burst into their private haven and Colonel Forster emerged from behind a hideous tapestry. He briefly closed his eyes in mortification before he turned towards the door. Through the doorway he had a clear view of his enraged future father-in-law, a hysterical Caroline Bingley clinging to Mr. Wickham, who was mocking him for his gallantry, a flustered Mr. Bingley, and a disinterested Mrs. Hurst. If he could see all of them he knew that they could all see him on one knee holding Elizabeth's hand and reciting Byron! He felt his face grow warm at the thought.

He did not know how to manage this situation. It had seemed natural to let his guard down with Elizabeth, to share his feelings if he hoped to ever have them returned. But now! He had never been this vulnerable before an audience before. He could hardly resume his mask of haughty disdain from the floor of the library! He returned his gaze to Elizabeth, she would know what to do. In response she smiled and pressed his hand in assurance, then turned to the Colonel. "Well, Colonel Forster, it would appear that your services may be required to subdue the discontented populace after all!"

Darcy did not altogether like the appraising look that the Colonel swept over Elizabeth or his smooth response, "I am always glad to be of service to a lady in distress Miss Elizabeth."

* * *

Elizabeth sighed as their lighthearted responses eased some of the tension in the two rooms. In all honesty, she had been rather cozy with Mr. Darcy in their own private world. His transformation from the disagreeable taciturn man she had taken such pride in loathing into the gentle solicitous lover she now knew he could be in private was shocking, but not altogether unwelcome. She could never have imagined the proud Mr. Darcy of yesterday doing anything so degrading as kneeling at her feet reciting poetry. She was not prepared for her own reaction to the intensity of emotions he conveyed in his soulful gaze and ardent recital of the poem. "As you can see I am hardly in distress, my fiancé was merely demonstrating the efficacy of poetry as the food of love," Mr. Darcy still clung firmly to her hand and she felt at least half of the tension leave his body at this statement, "though I do thank you for discovering an alternate exit to the room."

Her efforts seemed to rouse Mr. Darcy from his stupor and he quickly rose then helped Elizabeth from her seat. "Indeed, while I always appreciate the bewitching company of my betrothed," she felt her cheeks redden at the doting look he gave her, "the library would hardly have been a suitable place to spend the evening in whole." Elizabeth noted with some satisfaction that Caroline Bingley's cries seemed to peek at the words fiancé and betrothed.

Mr. Bingley was gradually emerging from his shock and offered a bewildered, "Congratulations Darcy! Miss Elizabeth!" He looked uncomfortably around at his companions then continued. "Uh, while I cannot guarantee that nobody has noticed your absences in the ballroom, news of your … ah … situation has not spread beyond the present company and it WILL NOT be shared with anyone else." His voice had taken a hard tone that Elizabeth had never heard from her sister's amiable suitor and he looked each person in the eye for a response. They all readily assented with the exception of Miss Bingley who looked at Elizabeth with a vicious glare.

"Caroline! Must I remind you that your own reputation and financial future are on the line here as well?" He bellowed.

Elizabeth could see her determination falter, but not yet fall. Mr. Wickham gently rubbed his hands down her arms and entreated, "Come now my dear, let us all agree to put these events behind us and move forward, it shall be for the best." Caroline at last broke her glare to look at her own intended and her face softened. She looked toward her brother and gave a faint nod.

"Excellent, I believe it would be best if we made the announcements at supper tonight in order to appease gossiping tongues."

She stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, who had retreated once again behind his social mask. Missing their easy camaraderie, she pressed his hand and he immediately turned to her and smiled. All things considered, she had every reason to hope for a happy conclusion to this scenario. However, Elizabeth was still worried about her father's reaction. Since his initial outburst, Mr. Bennett had been fuming in silent anger, his eyes fixated on their clasped hands. "Papa?"

* * *

Mr. Bennet was, in general, an indolent sort. He kept quietly to himself in his book room whiling away the dull hours with philosophy and wine. He had therefore never been roused to this level of anger in his life. While he had never taken a particularly active interest in his daughters' lives overall, Lizzy was special. She was bright and witty and inquisitive and had taken an active interest in his own pursuits. So he had devoted hours to teaching her, debating with her, delighting in her company. If applied to a half hour ago, he would have sworn that he understood his Lizzy better than any other living creature. Now, staring at Mr. Darcy's possessive grasp on his favorite daughter's hand, he could scarcely contain his rage. Sure, she was putting on a brave face, forcing cheer in front of an audience to save her reputation, but he was certain she was suffering and he would not allow it.

Finally looking up into his daughter's eyes he said, "if nobody else is aware of the situation, I see no need to sacrifice Lizzy to propriety. This can be hushed up and her reputation preserved!" He had expected this speech to relieve her, to free her from this bleak future. Instead, her smile faltered and she looked towards Mr. Darcy. He took some perverse pleasure in the look of panic on that gentleman's face. But he would not let the man take his Lizzy away simply because he was rich and he wanted her.

"Um..." started Mr. Bingley uncomfortably, "ah, unaware as we were of this connecting door, I have sent a servant in search of a locksmith. While I would hope my servants are discrete, we uh... may be unable to stifle all gossip." Damn gossiping servants. One could hardly expect the servants on a leased estate to be as loyal as old family retainers.

"Mr. Bennet, perhaps I might speak with you privately?" Mr. Darcy said in his cold commanding tone.

"Yes, you require some privacy," interjected the Colonel. "It would not do for us all to return to the ballroom at once, it would only call attention. I would propose that we stagger our departures." Colonel Forster had posed it as a suggestion, but pronounced it with the firm tone of a commanding officer. "Wickham, shall we return to the card room?"

"Indeed sir, a solid plan," Wickham simpered to his superior. Mr. Bennet had initially found the young man charming and entertaining, but could no longer see him as anyone but the villain who had sealed his Lizzy's fate.

"Elizabeth, if you would be so kind as to wait for me in the study while I speak to this," his voice took a derisive tone, "gentleman." After his daughter left the library he stepped in and closed the door.

"I will be frank with you sir, I do not like you. More importantly, Elizabeth has never liked you. Compromised or not, I will not allow my daughter to suffer."

"I couldn't agree more, I love Elizabeth too much to ever do anything intentionally to hurt her in any way." Mr. Bennet opened his mouth for an acerbic retort, but Mr. Darcy continued on quickly before he culd respond, "I am aware of her previous ill opinion and I believe over the course of the evening we have come to a better understanding of each other's characters. Unfortunately, after nearly two hours alone in a locked room, you must see that her reputation will be ruined if we do not emerge engaged. Which is why I proposed that we become betrothed but wait to set a date until either Elizabeth falls in love with me or..." the young man swallowed and appeared to be in some distress "or she falls... she decides to break off our engagement. I love your daughter, but I won't force her to marry against her inclination."

Mr. Bennet balked at the pretense of his words. His assurances of love were spoken in cold, condescending tones. "Come Mr. Darcy, there is no need to do the pretty with me, no need to feign love for my daughter for I know better, we've all known your opinion of her from the first!"

"I should think not. It is true that I made an unfortunate and cruel comment about Elizabeth at the Meryton Assembly, but that comment was made at first glance without thought. It has been quite some time since I have considered her the handsomest woman of my acquaintance." True, the look on his face showed no sign of deception, but his look conveyed determination rather than love or admiration, as if defying Mr. Bennet to refute him.

* * *

Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was not used to justifying himself to any man. Although he had been prepared for Mr. Bennet's anger over the situation, once it was clear that he would do the honorable thing _and_ take Elizabeth's feelings into account he assumed that her father would see the sense in his approach. He was not prepared for the level of animosity Mr. Bennet was exhibiting or to have his feelings and his words questioned.

"Even if the scales have fallen from your eyes and you have finally seen how beautiful my Lizzy is, attraction does not equate to love. Believe me when I say that marrying for beauty leads to a lifetime of unhappiness. Your temperaments are too different, you would not suit. You are used to having your commands obeyed and Lizzy has never responded kindly to orders. She would not make you happy and I am convinced that you would make her miserable."

Mr. Darcy could scarcely countenance such a misrepresentation of his own feelings and wishes. "Mr. Bennet, I have been hounded by beautiful, fashionable, obedient women for years. If you think this is my ideal of a wife you are sorely mistaken. Yes, Elizabeth is beautiful and has the most captivating eyes I have ever beheld, but this is not why I love her. She is intelligent, witty, and caring. She speaks her own mind rather than parroting opinions she believes would impress me. She is not afraid of contradicting me, debating me, teasing me. She challenges me in a way no women and few men ever have. I can assure you I have no wish to repress that spirit which is an essential part of her character and charm merely to gain a meek or docile wife!"

Mr. Bennet merely stared at him with an unreadable face. As the seconds ticked by, he felt himself growing desperate. What if Mr. Bennet refused his consent? What if Elizabeth never returned his feelings? How could he go back to his lonely, bleak life? Finally Mr. Bennet sighed and Darcy's attention snapped back to him. "There is a vast difference between enjoying Lizzy's impertinent remarks on occasion in society and living together day in and day out for the rest of your lives."

"I realize that nobody can peek into the future and know for certain how they will behave or feel for the rest of their lives. However, I love and respect your daughter and I want to spend the rest of my life with her." Darcy strove for his habitual calm, but feared that the desperation was seeping into his voice. "If Elizabeth and I spend the next six months, year, five years if it comes to it, in each other's company and our affection only grows, I believe we have as solid a chance of a successful marriage as anyone can boast."

Darcy watched in agitation as Mr. Bennet merely scoffed at his plea. "You fear that I will not respect Elizabeth and yet you have fixed your judgment of our situation without even consulting her. Elizabeth and I have spoken in depth on this matter and we've discussed our own fears and concerns, will you not show her the same courtesy?"

This observation hit the mark and Mr. Bennet paled and sighed. "Very well then," he strode to the door and opened it, "Lizzy, will you please join us for a moment?" All of the anxiety and desperation of the past minutes started to seep away as Elizabeth again entered the library. Her look of reassurance allowed him to breathe again.

* * *

Elizabeth was not readjusting well to life outside of the sanctuary of the library. With their newfound understanding of each other, her and Mr. Darcy had fallen into a pleasant companionship. He had allayed most of her fears about their prospective marriage and they had enjoyed either lively conversation or companionable silence for the majority of their time in isolation. Now, she sat in the palpable tension of the study with Mr. Bingley and his sisters.

Caroline Bingley had kept up a steady stream of insults and insinuations suggesting that Elizabeth had intentionally trapped Mr. Darcy and stolen him from herself. Mr. Bingley had tried to quell her speech but Elizabeth suspected that he had never had much success in that endeavor. Elizabeth's usual ability to rise at every attempt to intimidate her seemed to be failing under the present circumstances. It was not that Miss Bingley's rant was truly effecting her but she was rather too concerned about her own rioting emotions and the conversation happening in the library to fret over Miss Bingley's vitriol. Still, it did grate on the nerves. Relief came from the unlikely intervention of Mrs. Hurst. "Caroline please, you really must stop!" It was the first time she had heard Mrs. Hurst disagree with her sister and Elizabeth immediately liked her the better for it. "I allowed you to create this situation to keep the peace and because it was what you wanted. I was wrong to do so, but what is done is done. Now. You have two choices. You can continue to berate Miss Bennet and _we will_ be cut from the circle of society to which we have grown accustomed, or you can make peace with the situation and make the most of life with your charming fiancé."

"Cut from society... that would never happen! Why the ton will surely take our side over this conniving..."

"Caroline!" Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst yelled in chorus.

"My dear, you know as well as I that our current social standing is supported by two factors alone, my marriage with Mr. Hurst, and Charles's close friendship with Mr. Darcy and you can be sure that Mr. Hurst won't exert himself in your favor. What pray tell do you suppose would happen if you threw your force against the future Mrs. Darcy with the ton?" Elizabeth felt a trill of excitement at the last comment. She refused to consider whether it was Miss Bingley's defeat or hearing herself referred to for the first time as the future Mrs. Darcy.

In response, Miss Bingley screeched in frustration and threw Mr. Bingley's blotter across the room. "Caroline! I believe it best for you to return to the ball now, you are the hostess after all and you can do nothing here but vex us all," Mr. Bingley again interceded.

Caroline turned to leave but looked back at her sister incredulously, "Well, Louisa, are you coming?"

"No, my dear," Mrs. Hurst said calmly, "Miss Bennet's reputation has been placed in enough peril at the hands of our family tonight, I shall stay as a chaperone until she is ready to return." Another shriek followed by a bauble flying across the room was Caroline's reply before she turned and huffed out of the room.

"I really must apologize to you Miss Bennet, I fear I've allowed Caroline's ill will to overpower my own civility. How are you holding up? You seem rather quieter than your usual self."

Elizabeth roused herself to respond. "Thank you Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Bingley. I am well, it has merely been an exceedingly eventful evening." Elizabeth's eyes remained focused on the connecting door to the library. Surely her father would not withhold his consent in the present circumstances. Yesterday she had happily detested Mr. Darcy, two hours ago she had reluctantly accepted his plan as the best course of action given the circumstances, now she found herself almost desperate for him to emerge from the library and confirm that they were in fact engaged.

Finally, the door to the library opened and her father beckoned her to enter. Mr. Darcy's forlorn face indicated that the conference had not gone smoothly.

* * *

Caroline stormed down the hallway, fuming at Louisa's betrayal. Of course the rational part of Caroline knew that as Mr. Darcy's wife – blast that upstart chit! – Eliza would have a higher standing than herself, but a girl could dream of revenge. She had expected Charles to take the diplomatic route, but she had always been able to count on Louisa's support and sympathy. She felt so alone, deserted to face censure on her own.

She re-entered the ballroom and gazed about her. Her preparations for the ball had indeed been perfect. The room was charmingly arranged, the musicians – brought in from London – were impeccable, the refreshments were superb. And yet the entire effect was spoiled by the gathered company. _Good heavens, was that one of the Bennet girls literally chasing after a soldier! How unseemly._ Of course even worse than the inelegant dancing of her country neighbors were the surreptitious glances and whispers behind fans that were directed her way. It was insupportable to be judged and gossiped about in such company as this!

The stress of the evening was closing in on her and her carefully constructed facade of calm elegance was beginning to crack when suddenly she spotted a now familiar charming smile beaming in her direction. He disengaged himself from a knot of soldiers and made his way to her side with a gallant bow.

"Miss Bingley, your presence once again brightens the ballroom" Mr. Wickham cooed as he offered her his arm. "Would you care for a turn about the room?"

She gratefully accepted his arm and replied. "Mr. Wickham, I must say the air in the ballroom is far more palatable than that of the study at the moment."

"My dear, as we are soon to be married," he said with a roguish twinkle in his eye, "could you not call me George?"

"George, hm, yes I like that." His smile brightened at her use of his name, "and you must call me Caroline."

"Caroline, I do believe we shall rub together splendidly." She blushed at the impropriety of that phrase combined with his direct stare and raised eyebrow. And yet, she could not help but agree. They ambled about the room discussing future plans, deriding country fashion, and braving the speculation of their neighbors together.

* * *

Darcy stood again by the mantle in the ballroom. He was strategically positioned along the wall near the door she would re-enter through while the mirror afforded him a clear view of the room. Through Elizabeth's avowal of her improving regard, Darcy's steadfast assurances of his intentions, and Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hursts presence as a reminder that the situation may still be spread abroad, Mr. Bennet had finally given his begrudging consent to the engagement. He had then summarily dismissed Darcy to return to the ball while he had a private word with Elizabeth. Bingley had insisted that he wished for a private word with Mr. Bennet when he was through with Elizabeth and Mrs. Hurst quite properly insisted on remaining to escort Elizabeth back to the ballroom to lend an air of propriety. Therefore Darcy had solemnly paced back to the ballroom alone, uneasy in the knowledge that Mr. Bennet may still convince his daughter to break the engagement.

He was unaccustomed to having anyone possess such control over him. He could now acknowledge that Elizabeth controlled his heart and all prospects of happiness in his future rested in her. He found himself all too willing to cede this control to the woman he loved. The power that this gave Mr. Bennet however, rankled and he would not be easy until Elizabeth's return.

His dark contemplative mood was better suited to quiet reflection than a ballroom, but he had been banished from the library and study and if he were to seek out his private rooms he would loose the opportunity to see his Elizabeth. Mrs. Long stood next to him, occasionally trying to engage him in conversation, but he was too wrapped up in his own concerns to even notice.

The black cloud of his thoughts lifted when Elizabeth and Mrs. Hurst finally emerged through the doors. He broke into an irrepressible smile at her laughter and expressive eyes as she scanned the ballroom before her. He was at her side in a moment.

* * *

Elizabeth's private conversation with her father had been trying. Explaining her feelings to someone else when she hardly knew what they were herself yet was a daunting task. After much deliberation, her father had finally been satisfied with the knowledge that she would not marry the man until she was convinced of her own mind. He had wished to delay making any announcement to see if they escaped detection, but she was able to convince him that it would be far better to announce an engagement before any rumors began to fly than to wait lest it appear they were forced to wed. She was now contemplatively walking back down the hallway with Mrs. Hurst.

"Miss Bennet, I don't believe I have offered you my sincere congratulations on your betrothal."

Somewhat surprised, and still leery of Mrs. Hurst's previous stinging criticisms, Elizabeth was on her guard. "On my ability to entrap a wealthy man? Amongst ourselves, we know that this is not a storybook romance."

"As an old married lady who has caught an _eligible_ match, let me assure you, that you are to be congratulated on securing the admiration of a truly worthy man. I've seen you two together, I would count myself lucky if Mr. Hurst ever looked at me with half the level of affection Mr. Darcy has for you."

"Thank you" Elizabeth was stunned at this unguarded speech and her surprise was apparently evident in her face.

"I see it will be difficult to combat the previous impression I gave you. I again apologize for my former coldness. Caroline has always been petulant, strong willed, and needy. When she first came out I tried to correct her behavior, but over time I grew weary and realized that her tantrums were shorter and less destructive if I merely agreed with her."

Elizabeth laughingly responded as they entered the ballroom, "I believe that I can relate to the misfortune of having a headstrong, unruly younger sister who does not care to be corrected better than most." She searched the ballroom for her youngest sisters attempting to ascertain how much damage they could have done in her extended absence. Mrs. Hurst gave her a knowing smile and nodded to her left just before she felt a gentle hand at her elbow.

"Miss Bennet, Mrs. Hurst." Mr. Darcy bowed and greeted both ladies, but his eyes never left Elizabeth's. "I trust everything is well?" He was smiling, but she caught the tension of anxiety in his voice.

"All is well Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley merely wished to speak with my father," she reassured him.

"Indeed, I fear we will have an unprecedented number of announcements to make at supper this evening" Mrs. Hurst tittered, and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy shared a meaningful look. "Speaking of which, as Caroline and Charles are busy and the supper set has already begun, I should be checking on preparations." She curtsied and excused herself.

"How was your meeting with your father?"

"I suspect it was not as trying as yours."

"Yes, it rather resembled an inquisition, not an experience I'd like to repeat."

"We did at least extract his consent, and our engagement will be announced at supper." His smile widened at this statement and Elizabeth decided that she rather liked the look of contentment and adoration that suffused his face. Seized with an impish desire to further expand that charming smile, Elizabeth added, "it is a shame we were not able to conclude our experiment."

"What experiment was that my dear?"

"I believe you were in the process of proving that poetry was indeed the food of love when we were interrupted." Elizabeth was not disappointed, his smile broadened and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. Before Mr. Darcy could sufficiently recover Jane approached them.

* * *

Although one would never know from her serene exterior, Jane Bennet was growing increasingly alarmed. The ball had begun so well. Charles – Mr. Bingley! – had left the receiving line to escort her into the ball and they had opened the ball together. He had been by her side for an eternity – or was it only the span of a few dances? Despite the crowded ballroom, Jane felt like they were the only people in the room. But then there was a terrible commotion near the door, they could see a soldier in the hallway and Mrs. Hurst holding the door open. Murmurs about Miss Bingley being compromised reached them and Mr. Bingley had excused himself to sort things out.

Her evening had begun to slide downhill from there. Mr. Collins had come to claim his dance with her and dreadfully trod on her feet. His conversation worried her as he had implied at multiple times that in the future he would become more than just her cousin. His marked attentions to Lizzy had been troubling her for days, but it seemed as if he were coming to the point of proposing. Having newly experienced love herself, Jane could not help but recoil from the thought of her closest sister having to endure a marriage to Mr. Collins. Although she always managed to find the good in any person, Jane could find little to recommend marital felicity between the dull Mr. Collins and her spirited sister.

After the dance Mr. Collins stated his intention to seek out Lizzy. Shocked by Mr. Wickham's tale of Mr. Darcy's cruelty, she had tasked herself with discovering the veracity of it this evening. She had asked Mr. Bingley earlier, who stated that Mr. Wickham had done Mr. Darcy some great harm. He could not, however be specific as to what. As Mr. Darcy was Mr. Bingley's closest friend, Jane was convinced that he could not be terribly wicked. Since she had no other pressing concerns at the moment she decided to seek him out and further their acquaintance. After all, if her fondest dreams came true, she would no doubt be frequently in his company. Her anxiety heightened as a thorough search of the ballroom and card room turned up none of the principles in the matter. Mr. Bingley, both of his sisters, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Wickham were all absent and on a second round of searching, she noticed that her father and Colonel Forster were likewise missing.

She milled about listening to the gossip. Most of it was directed at Miss Bingley's scandalous embrace, by this time it seemed mostly settled that it was with Mr. Wickham, though some clung to the initial report of Mr. Darcy. Jane hoped Miss Bingley would be very happy with whichever gentleman she had been embracing. Surely they were both honorable gentlemen and an announcement would be made this evening.

Mr. Collins again approached her asking after his, "fair cousin Elizabeth," with the insinuation that she was attempting to strengthen his affection through her absence. Mrs. Bennet's application to Jane attributed Lizzy's absence to her impertinence in hiding from Mr. Collins simply to vex her poor mother. Other than these two interested parties, nobody else seemed to notice Lizzy's absence.

At length, the missing parties began to filter in. Mr. Wickham and Colonel Forster entered first, fanning fresh wind into the gossip about the recent scandal. Shortly after, Miss Bingley returned alone and the fondness with which Mr. Wickham greeted her confirmed to Jane's tender heart that they would indeed make a splendid match. Mr. Darcy returned and took up a post near a mantle and brooded towards the door he had entered. She was dancing a little while later when she caught sight of him and saw his face suddenly transform from a brooding scowl into a brilliant smile. That smile, shockingly, was directed at Lizzy, who had just reappeared with Mrs. Hurst. Unfortunately, the moves of the dance prevented her from seeing the rest of the scene. As soon as Captain Denny deposited her at the side of the dance floor, she hastily joined her sister. Lizzy was beaming a coy smile at Mr. Darcy, who was slightly flushed with his mouth agape.

"Lizzy! What has happened to you! Mr. Collins has been searching for you this past hour at least and Mama has begun to worry that you have been avoiding …" Jane stopped short when she noticed the dark look that suddenly crossed Mr. Darcy's brow, and saw him reach for Lizzy's hand. Jane gaped as she watched Lizzy accept his grasp and squeeze his hand.

"Jane! I cannot explain it here, but I assure you I will give you a full account this evening. I am glad to speak to you before supper because I would not like you to find out with everyone else." Elizabeth paused.

"Find what out?"

"Mr. Darcy and I are engaged."

"But..." Jane began to protest that Lizzy disliked him, but her current expression was so open as she smiled affectionately at her fiancé and Mr. Darcy gazed back at Lizzy with such open admiration that she could not doubt the truth. She wouldn't believe it if the evidence wasn't before her eyes. Jane's own easy smile re-emerged. "Congratulations to you both. Only tell me you are happy and I will be content."

"I believe I am," Lizzy responded as she shot a coy smile towards Mr. Darcy with one upturned eyebrow.

"Miss Bennet!" Jane startled and turned towards Mr. Bingley's voice. He stood behind her with her father.

"Mr. Bingley!"

"Would you come with me for a moment?" He said as he gestured for her to exit the ballroom. Jane gasped, a moment alone with a gentleman at a ball following a private conference with her father could only mean one thing. She beamed at her father, silently asking his permission. He nodded for her to go ahead and she exited the ballroom with Mr. Bingley.

In his study, he seated her on a chair, then knelt before her. "Miss Bennet – Jane, from the moment I saw you at the Meryton assembly I was struck by your beauty. My admiration and love for you has only grown in the following weeks and I find I can no longer imagine my life without you. Will you make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?"

"Charles, you are already the happiest of men and I will gladly become your wife!"

After a few delirious moments of whispered declarations and sweet kisses, Jane followed her betrothed back to the ballroom, where they arrived just as the supper set was ending, and led the revelers in to supper.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _Out in the Open_

After Mr. Bingley and Jane had departed for their private conversation, Mr. Bennet stood silently with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy for a moment. The couple had been so wrapped up in their confession to Jane that they had not seen his approach. Curbing Mr. Bingley's eagerness to propose for a moment with a hand on his arm, Mr. Bennet watched as Elizabeth proudly declared her engagement and looked warmly into Mr. Darcy's eyes as she stated that she was happy. The brief interaction had been telling. The soulful gaze shared between the two indicated that Lizzy had some softer feelings for the man even if she did not yet love him. When Mr. Bennet was meeting with Mr. Darcy, the man had maintained the aloof demeanor that had been ever present throughout his visit in the country. He had spoken of tender feelings with a disconnected coldness which belied their sincerity. But now, seeing the proud man gaze at Lizzy with a besotted grin even as she teased him, his worries began to melt away.

"I couldn't fail to notice, papa, that your interview with Mr. Bingley was far briefer than your interview with Mr. Darcy." Lizzy said, as she focused that impertinent eyebrow in his direction.

"Yes, well, Mr. Bingley met Jane at an assembly, danced with her, enjoyed her smiles, courted her openly for weeks, then approached me to request my consent. A far smoother form of courtship than insulting a lady, ignoring her, glaring at her, then locking her in a library. You can understand my reluctance." Mr. Darcy had the decency to color at this assessment of his own conduct.

"Ah yes, but you see, as it was largely my impertinence that attracted Mr. Darcy, perhaps a smooth courtship would not have suited."

"Well, your liveliness of spirit at least, I should be sadly disappointed should you transform into a meek obliging girl." _Mr. Darcy teasing himself, well well well, who would have guessed._ Mr. Bennet's mood improved as the three enjoyed a lively conversation, largely at Mr. Darcy's expense. He saw Mr. Collins approaching with a determined gait and mused to himself that there was at least one immediate benefit to Elizabeth's engagement.

* * *

"Cousin Elizabeth!" Elizabeth tensed and felt Mr. Darcy's hand grip more tightly as Mr. Collins approached.

"Cousin Elizabeth, I have been searching for you, but you have eluded me like an enchanting nymph." The compliments from Mr. Collins sent a chill down her spine. "Would you allow me to escort you into supper?" Could he not see the man beside her holding her hand and glaring at him? Glancing at Mr. Darcy she wondered how she had mistaken his looks for a glare before, he had certainly never cast such a menacing look in her direction.

Before she had the opportunity to respond, her father intervened and made the introduction. "Mr. Collins, allow me to introduce Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire. Mr. Darcy, my cousin Mr. Collins of Kent."

"Mr. Darcy! How astonishing, are you not the nephew of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh?" The toady parson preened.

"Indeed, Lady Catherine is my aunt." Mr. Darcy's social mask had firmly reappeared accompanying that unwavering glare.

"I have the pleasure of being able to assure you that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."

"I'm pleased to hear it." Mr. Darcy replied, his curt tone and angry glare contrasted greatly with his pleasant words.

The stilted conversation was interrupted by the announcement that supper was ready. Mr. Collins immediately resumed his original purpose. "Cousin Elizabeth?" He said as he held out his arm for her.

"Excuse me Mr. Collins, but I already have a dinner partner, Mr. Darcy will escort me."

"But..." Mr. Collins sputtered, looked between the three, and resumed his assault, "Mr. Darcy, under normal circumstances I would defer to you, but in this instance I believe I have the superior claim." Were it not for the tension radiating from Mr. Darcy and her own discomfort at the situation, Elizabeth would have been tempted to laugh at the way Mr. Collins somehow combined obsequious deference with a hint of proprietary hostility into this speech.

"Allow me to clarify, Mr. Collins. I will be escorting my fiancée, Miss Elizabeth, to supper." Mr. Darcy gently placed her hand on his arm and placed his other hand over hers.

"What!" Mr. Collins looked at Elizabeth, who placed her other hand over their joined hands. "But..." He looked at Mr. Bennet, who nodded. "But what about your engagement to your cousin, Anne de Bourgh!?"

Mr. Bennet coughed. Mr. Darcy's eyes snapped to Mr. Bennet's, "I am not now, nor have I ever been engaged to my cousin. My aunt's wishes do not dictate my actions nor do they reflect my own feelings or those of my cousin." His eyes pleaded with Mr. Bennet to believe him. Mr. Bennet responded with an appraising glance and a nod of his head.

"But..." Mr. Collins looked directly at Elizabeth. "Your mother..."

Elizabeth knew exactly what her mother's wishes were and anger flared within her "Perhaps we should take this conversation as evidence that a mother's wishes or word do not a marriage make, especially if the parties involved do not wish for the match. A lady does prefer to be asked before the engagement is formed or announced to the world! If you'll excuse us." With that she turned and all but dragged a stunned Mr. Darcy in to supper. He seated her at the main table near Jane and left to assemble their plates.

"Well..." she prodded her sister.

"'Tis too much! By far too much. I do not deserve it. I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried Jane.

"Congratulations! I knew Mr. Bingley would have the good sense to fall in love with you."

"Oh! Lizzy, if I could but see you as happy! Are you as happy as I am?"

"Oh Jane, Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may grow to love my Mr. Darcy as much as you love your Mr. Bingley."

Jane replied in a soft voice full of concern. "Oh Lizzy, do you not love him then?"

"It is all too new, twelve hours ago I hated the thought of the man, and now..." she paused in reflection, "my emotions are in too much flux to say. However, I may say with certainty, that over the past several hours, my regard for him has been steadily increasing. I am in a fair way of loving him very soon."

* * *

Darcy could scarce believe his ears. Either his love addled mind was telling him what he wanted to hear, or Elizabeth had just admitted to her sister that she was on her way to loving him! His heart swelled and he was filled with a renewed determination to do whatever it would take to influence her heart in his favor. He savored the moment long enough that their conversation had shifted back to Jane's engagement before clearing his throat and placing Elizabeth's plate before her. "Here you are my dear."

She turned toward him with the most becoming blush, her fine eyes reflecting the sentiments she had just shared with her sister. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy." It occurred to him that breaking from formality may help his case.

"Elizabeth," he said as he sat down, "would you ... do I ask too much ... could you call me by my given name?"

Elizabeth blushed again and looked down, "I'm afraid I don't even know what it is."

"My given name is Fitzwilliam."

"Fitzwilliam then." He savored the sound of his name on her lips for the first time for a moment before he realized she was still talking. "Shall I trouble myself to officially give my permission for you to call me Elizabeth? Since you've already been doing so all evening."

"I suppose that is one benefit of your being a younger sister, I've known you as Miss Elizabeth from our first acquaintance and you've been simply Elizabeth in my mind for quite some time. Once we had an agreement, I could not resist."

Dinner continued in companionable conversation between Darcy and Elizabeth. Occasionally, the loud voice of Mrs. Bennet carried to him from another table spouting vulgar gossip. She cycled between Jane's marriage prospects and the benefits they would bring to the other girls, the scandal of Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham, and the prospect of Elizabeth's marriage to Mr. Collins. All of these topics were offensive to Darcy but none more so than sullying Elizabeth's name with a connection to Mr. Collins. The possibility that his Elizabeth could have been pressured to marry Mr. Collins had she not been engaged to himself chilled him. He knew her temperament well enough to realize that she would have refused the slimy parson, but her mother would no doubt have punished her for it. Mrs. Bennet's intrusions on his happiness, however, were softened by Elizabeth's increased solicitude when they occurred.

At the end of the meal, Mr. Bingley stood and gestured for Mr. Bennet to join him. "Friends, I would like to thank you all for your attendance this evening and for your warm welcome into the neighborhood. I find I have several announcements to make before we have some music. First, It is my great pleasure to announce the engagement of my dear sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, to Lieutenant George Wickham." This announcement was met by the customary applause and well wishes accompanied by knowing glances and suggestive nods. Mrs. Bennet was heard stating in a stage whisper that this cleared up which gentleman compromised her. "I will now turn the floor over to Mr. Bennet." The room erupted with murmurs and nods to Jane. Mrs. Bennet, for once, was silent with her rapt attention focused on her husband.

"I have two announcements to make this evening. My wife has gone to great pains to ensure that nobody is surprised by the first, Mr. Bingley has asked for and received the hand of my oldest daughter, Jane." As Jane Bennet was a well loved fixture of the neighborhood and Mr. Bingley endeared himself to everyone he met, the applause and congratulations aroused by this announcement far surpassed those elicited by Miss Bingley and Mr. Wickham's engagement.

Mrs. Bennet's cry of "Oh Mr. Bennet! Why did you not tell me! Oh Jane, I always said it must be so, at last. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing!" Echoed above the din.

"Yes my dear, but I believe my second announcement will come as a surprise to even your keen matchmaking abilities. My second daughter, Elizabeth has become engaged to..." Mrs. Bennet looked expectantly at Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins looked dejectedly down at his plate "...Mr. Darcy." For a second, the room was silent. Then Mr. Bingley began clapping and loudly congratulating his friend. The room erupted and the applause and congratulations were drowned out by the din of hushed conjectures spoken all at once.

"Our Lizzy! To be married to that disagreeable man!"

"He would dance with only her"

"Well, he did dance with me as well, but I knew it was all for Lizzy's benefit"

"Of course the wittiest girl in the neighborhood would attract the richest man to ever travel through it"

"Ten thousand pounds!"

"Lord, how boring! He doesn't even have a red coat!"

"But she hates him!" That one kept bouncing around in his head.

Darcy was beginning to panic under the scrutiny and the mixed response to his engagement – could they not just be happy for him – when he felt Elizabeth take his hand beneath the table. He looked at her and his world was righted. The opinions of the neighborhood did not matter, her opinion mattered and she looked happy. Without thinking, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. He was unaware of the sudden increase in applause, congratulations, and murmurs of, "it must be a love match," because for the moment he was lost in the depths of her eyes and his world had narrowed to only Elizabeth.

"Now," continued Mr. Bingley when the room quieted, "in light of these announcements, I believe it is only proper for our beautiful brides," he paused to smile fondly at Jane, "to entertain us. Caroline, would you like to begin?"

Miss Bingley proceeded to play and sing a complex Italian song. Her performance was technically flawless, though Darcy found it lacking in emotion. Elizabeth's song enchanted him. It was a simple love song in English, but it was performed with such liveliness and emotion that it could not but please her audience. He had heard her sing and play before, but now, the full force of her gaze was on him as she performed, she was singing a love song to him and he'd never heard anything that gave him greater pleasure. Miss Bennet, with her tender heart, noticed Miss Mary's disappointment at being sidelined in favor of the brides, and so suggested that Miss Mary accompany her on the pianoforte as she sang. Darcy could not help but see this as a boon to the performance. Miss Bennet's voice was light and pleasant, but not strong and would not stand well unaccompanied. Miss Mary played well, though he knew from past experiences that it was a blessing she did not sing.

* * *

Caroline was milling about the ballroom with her betrothed. Supper had been, for the most part, pleasant. Although she was constantly vexed by the sight of the apparently very happy Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet – She had seen more smiles from him at this dinner than she had in all the years of their acquaintance! – George always managed to distract her into laughter when her thoughts started to wander. He really was quite charming. The engagement announcements were an embarrassment. She was coming to look forward to marriage with her handsome rogue, but having her engagement announced in quick succession with those Bennets was mortifying. Not only were they the great local beauties, but they were universally liked amongst the guests. They both received far more attention than herself. A bride deserves to be the focus of attention when her engagement is announced, she should not be required to share the limelight. Furthermore, her engagement was already marred in scandal.

As they circulated the ballroom, however, George had begun to spin the tale of their whirlwind romance in a far more pleasant light. "You see, Lady Lucas, it was a case of love at first sight! I took one look at this elegant creature and knew she was the one lady for me. We conversed, we danced, and I was overcome. I stepped into the hallway to attempt to control my riotous emotions and when Miss Bingley happened upon me I could not prevent myself from declaring my feelings and asking her to marry me on the spot. She had just accepted when we were discovered by her sister."

"Oh Mr. Wickham, how romantic!" Cooed Lady Lucas warmly, "Miss Bingley, congratulations!" Her tone when expressing this latter sentiment revealed just a hint of spiteful jealousy that her daughters had not inspired such ardor. Caroline appreciated that jealousy far more than the insipid congratulations.

"Splendid, Splendid! A bit of privacy is required for a marriage proposal, Eh Wickham? bad luck you were interrupted, I say!" Sir. William Lucas added his sincere, if uncouth, congratulations.

As they ambled away from the conversation George said, "Poor Lady Lucas, it is I suppose unfortunate that one of her daughters lacks any beauty and the other lacks any sense. Neither of them are likely to inspire much emotion in anyone."

"Now my dear George, Charlotte Lucas is a rather active, useful sort of girl, she would make an excellent wife to an aging widower with a brood of children he wishes to neglect" Caroline replied with a sneer.

"My dearest Caroline, a man could become used to being addressed as 'my dear George'" he said as he placed his hand over hers.

For a moment Caroline could almost believe the fairytale he had now repeated to most of the town gossips. "You do perform well, my dear George, even I am beginning to believe your stories."

"Well, my account may be embellished, but who is to say it's not mostly true? I did, indeed decide you were the perfect woman for me on first sight. I saw so much of myself in you that I was intrigued."

"You made this decision from across a crowded ballroom while arguing with Mr. Darcy?"

"No." The fleeting hope in Caroline's heart began to shrivel as he paused. "I must confess that I've seen you before this evening."

"When?"

"Two days ago. I was discretely positioned behind a display of fabric in the general store in Meryton, when a vision of beauty and poise arose before me … outlining her wicked plot to entrap a man into marriage."

Caroline gasped and blushed. "You knew!" The statement was equal parts accusation and astonishment with a dash of shame.

"I knew you were a beautiful, cunning woman with flexible scruples and determined ambition. As close a mirror of my own character as I ever did see. I also knew Darcy. He's been avoiding such schemes for years and his resentment is implacable, if you had succeeded in your scheme he would have married you, but never forgiven you. You would both be miserable."

Caroline was having trouble reconciling these revelations onto her understanding of their relationship. She was, of course, outraged that he had intentionally spoiled her scheme. The door closing behind Miss Elizabeth, his presence outside of the library, his quick understanding of the situation, they had all been by design. "You planned this!" She said through gritted teeth.

George gave a resigned sigh. "No my dear, you planned this. I merely altered your plans to the benefit of all. Neither of our actions were entirely above board. However, I do care for you. I could easily grow to love you with the slightest provocation," he paused here to deliver one of his devastating rakish smiles. "I want you to be happy. I want us to be happy, does it matter how it came about?"

"Do not expect to escape this revelation without serving your penance!" She said petulantly, but the contrite look in his eyes softened her. "I do suppose that in the end, happiness and love are preferable to stubborn pride." She gave him a saucy smile that promised future forgiveness.

* * *

Darcy was accompanying his fiancée back to the ballroom when she turned her impertinent gaze on him. "Are you ready for your first lesson?"

"Lesson?"

"On social etiquette. I believe we had an understanding that I should be your tutor," Elizabeth laughed. Darcy grimaced and momentarily looked away in discomfort, a creditable imitation of a schoolboy indeed. Elizabeth in turn affected her closest approximation of a governess tone. "I promise it shall not be so very bad. When we return to the ballroom, we shall be expected to mingle and accept congratulations on our recent engagement. I will be beside you and help draw you into the conversation, but you must make an effort. When I am asked to dance," Darcy felt his heart squeeze a bit at the prospect and perhaps his hand squeezed on hers as well because she softened her voice as she continued, "as we both know I shall be, you will not stand on the sidelines and glare at my partner as you have been wont to do in the past."

"You know I dislike dancing with women I do not know," Darcy was not looking forward to the prospect.

"Ah, but take heart, as an engaged man they can have no greater claims on you than a dance. And remember, I do have four sisters whom you have promised to get to know better. I give you leave to neglect Lydia and Kitty for the evening, their dance cards are likely already full and they can be rather exuberant at a ball. However, you know Jane well enough, and there's always Mary. She rarely has a partner and she, I assure you, will be pleased to speak of books in a ballroom. If you dance with Mary and Jane and perhaps Mrs. Hurst, that will bring you up to five partners for the evening, a creditable number for a gentleman who dislikes the activity."

"I suppose I will if I must. But I refuse to dance with Miss Bingley tonight after she came so close to ruining my every hope of happiness."

"I would not ask it of you," she said with an affectionate smile. "Now, shall we get the worst of the mingling out of the way?" Elizabeth said as she nodded toward a gaggle of ladies including her mother, Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Long, and Mary. With a resigned sigh, he allowed Elizabeth to drag him into the den of tabbies.

Mrs. Bennet was effusive in her praise, even going so far as to apologize for her previous dislike of him. While Mr. Darcy's consequence had sedated her initially, it could not entirely curb her habitual manner. Eventually, she hit on the dreaded topic of Mr. Darcy's wealth and how it, "must throw her younger girls in the way of other rich men." In response to this flagrant display of vulgarity, Darcy stood there fuming, Mary stuttered, Mrs. Long excused herself, and Mrs. Phillips agreed wholeheartedly.

Elizabeth, however challenged her mother "Mama! I can assure you that Mr. Darcy's wealth had little bearing on my decision to marry him. While a lady should never reveal her private reasons for marrying, I assure you mine had more to do with the strength of his character than the size of his pocketbook." She was magnificent, a vengeful goddess defending him and their relationship against the mercenary insinuations of her mother. "Furthermore, while Jane and I will have opportunities of introducing our sisters to broader society, I sincerely hope that they have the presence of mind to value gentlemen based on their merits and compatibility as we have."

Mrs. Bennet excused herself, dragging Mrs. Phillips along muttering about impertinent ungrateful children. Darcy could only stare in awe at Elizabeth. When she finally met his eye she said softly, "I apologize for my mother's rudeness as well as my own outburst. You should not take that as part of your instruction for the evening."

"Any insult caused by your mother's statement was more than compensated in your response. I could bear a great deal worse as long as it resulted in you publicly extolling my virtues."

"Well, I couldn't have you believing my intentions were mercenary, now could I?"

"I could never believe that of you," he lightly brushed a curl off of her cheek.

"I pay little mind to worldly considerations. When I wed I intend to focus more on integrity and moral fiber." Mary's statement startled him, he had nearly forgotten that they were in a crowded ballroom, much less that Elizabeth's sister was still standing with them. "Of course, a home far away from Longbourn may be another asset to consider in light of Mama's behavior," Mary added thoughtfully.

"Take heart Miss Mary, you shall be welcome at Pemberly as often as you wish." He replied, in an attempt to smooth over his neglect.

"Thank you, sir. I've heard you have a splendid library."

"Indeed, it has been the work of many generations and I own that books are one of the few extravagances that I often indulge in." A pleasant, if subdued conversation on books and collections followed. After a short while a young gentleman approached, whom Elizabeth introduced as John Lucas.

"Mr. Darcy, congratulations on acquiring one of the brightest gems of the country, Hertfordshire will be poorer without her presence." Between Charlotte's childhood stories of his misconduct and his flowery praise of Elizabeth, Darcy was ill inclined to be civil to the man. However, Elizabeth squeezed his arm and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas, I assure you that I feel my good fortune keenly." He was rewarded for his troubles with a brilliant smile from Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, if you are not otherwise engaged," he paused and gave Darcy an amused smile that made him want to knock a few of those teeth out, "Would you dance the next with me?" Darcy instinctively pulled Elizabeth's arm closer to his side.

"I would be delighted John if you will give me but a moment." She turned to her betrothed and whispered in an intimate tone, "remember, he has engaged me for the dance, but you have engaged me for life." She gave him a loving glance, then continued: "now, remember your lessons," and glanced significantly at Mary.

"Will you save the last for me?" He asked sheepishly.

She tenderly grasped his hand and replied, "I will always save the last for you Fitzwilliam." His hand lingered in hers for a moment as she turned to walk off with Mr. Lucas. He indulged himself in a momentary glower at their retreating forms, but Elizabeth's assurances had taken away the sting. He turned to her sister, determined to follow her instructions.

"Miss Mary, would you dance with me?" She looked up from her book – where the devil had that come from – in surprise and blushed.

"I ... I'd be happy to Mr. Darcy," she replied sheepishly as she tucked the small volume into her reticule.

Darcy awkwardly led his future sister-in-law to the dance floor. Silence reigned for several minutes while they danced stiffly. _Talk. Elizabeth insists I talk!_ " Um, do you always carry a book to a ball Miss Mary?"

Apparently startled to be addressed, Miss Mary's steps faltered slightly before she responded. "I find it's a tedious amount of sitting alone otherwise."

"I can relate, I've never been comfortable at such gatherings. I've never thought of bringing a book, but then I don't have the benefit of a reticule." Mr. Darcy was not used to being more gregarious than his dance partner, but he knew that laughter was often the best way to ease Georgiana's shyness. "I fear that a book in my pocket might spoil the lines of my evening wear."

Mary laughed – the first laugh he had heard from the serious girl – and he wondered at her neglect by the other gentlemen present. To be sure no one was as beautiful as his Elizabeth, and Miss Mary was by far the plainest of the Bennet sisters, but that metric was as futile as identifying the plainest rose in a hothouse bouquet. Perhaps they ought to invite her to town next season without her younger sisters so that she might not suffer the comparison. After all, she was soon to be the eldest Miss Bennet, and he did not trust Mrs. Bennet to prioritize her prospects. Their dance progressed with an awkward but earnest conversation about the discomfort of being shy in a ballroom and the efficacy of books in reticules to fend off both boredom and fiends.

The night continued on in a succession of socializing facilitated by Elizabeth and dancing. He could still not be entirely easy seeing Elizabeth dance with another man, but she always returned to his side afterwards with a smile and her eyes bright with exercise. He danced once with Jane while Elizabeth danced with Mr. Bingley. He found her to be sweet and obliging, a perfect complement to his friend's open easy temperament. Mrs. Hurst surprised him in their dance by sincerely apologizing for her sister's unconscionable behavior.

At length the final dance arrived. It had not required much prodding to convince Mr. Bingley to close the ball with a waltz and all three newly engaged couples took the floor. As Darcy took Elizabeth into his arms, he closed his eyes and sighed contentedly. Any tension built over gossiping ladies and insipid conversation melted away to relief at this quiet moment with Elizabeth.

* * *

"Are you quite alright Fitzwilliam?" When he closed his eyes and sighed, Elizabeth feared that she had pushed him too far on his first evening of instruction. She wished him to improve his manners, but she did not want him unhappy.

He opened his eyes slowly and gazed at her as they started dancing. "Never better, my love. I was just savoring the feeling of holding you in my arms for the first time." Elizabeth blushed furiously. If she were honest with herself, she was rather savoring the moment as well. She had waltzed before, of course, but this was different. She had never been quite so aware of her partner in the past: his hand on her back, his direct gaze, their breath mingling. It was safe to say that her emotions were still rioting, but a clear winner was emerging. Doubt and fear were still holding down a barricade, but their defenses were weakening under his tender assault.

"You've done very well tonight, you've managed polite conversation with most of the prominent members of Meryton society." She teased him in order to return the conversation to safer ground. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Yes," he responded frankly, "Yes it was very difficult. I don't think I'll ever have your ease in company, but you made it far easier by introducing topics I could converse on."

She frowned, her previous worry returning. "Did I push you too much tonight? I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Don't worry my dear, I can honestly say that I've never enjoyed a ball half as much as I have tonight. If the cost of moments like this," his hand rubbed in a small circle on her back to punctuate the sentiment, "is a few uncomfortable conversations then it's a price I'm willing to pay." Even Elizabeth found it hard to converse at that moment, so she simply enjoyed the rest of the dance in silence gazing into his intense brown eyes.

The Longbourn. party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone. For once, Elizabeth could not resent her mother's machinations as she found herself reluctant to part from Fitzwilliam.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 _Ockham Mount, November 27th 1811_

Elizabeth was standing atop a rock looking out over the peaceful morning landscape contemplating her current contentment. Despite the late hour at which they entered their bedroom the previous night, Elizabeth knew she owed Jane an explanation for her engagement. She would not dream of telling another soul the full story, but she had always been open with Jane about everything and this was too important to keep from her counsel. She had told her the whole affair: Wickham's confession, the dance with Mr. Darcy, her unintended revelation that she would never marry without love, Caroline's plot, their confinement alone in the library and their embarrassing pose in which they were found. After recounting the whole of the tale, as Elizabeth prepared for bed, she told herself she would surely not sleep a wink that night because of her inner tumult. She was therefore rather surprised to awake at her usual hour the next morning feeling well rested. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and slept peacefully. Trying to reconcile this with her rioting feelings toward Mr. Darcy, she realized that they were no longer rioting. A clear victor had emerged. She somehow had fallen in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy over the course of one evening.

As the day was fine, she had decided to take a walk to Ockham Mount and revel in this new discovery. She would see Fitzwilliam tonight, but it would be hard to get a peaceful moment alone. This was hardly the kind of news you shared in a crowded drawing room or across the dinner table. It would have to wait.

"Elizabeth!" As she was jarred from her reverie, she started slightly and lost her footing. Strong arms wrapped around her and swung her off of the rock and she found herself exactly where she wanted to be, in Fitzwilliam's arms.

"Good morning Fitzwilliam!"

"You nearly plummeted to your death and all you say is good morning?" She saw the fear in his eyes and noted his trembling arms, but she could not help the laughter that bubbled out of her mouth. "Are you well? Shall I send for the doctor? You haven't fallen into hysterics have you?" He inquired solicitously.

His touching concern only made her laugh again, but the panic in his eyes made her sober enough to assure him. "I was in no danger, my dear."

"You nearly fell off a cliff! I don't know what I would do if I lost you!" Lord she loved this man, but he was rather reactionary this morning.

"I am well," she again assured him, but her spirits soon rose to playfulness. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course!"

"Then allow me to show you something." She disengaged herself from his arms, returned to the rock, and hopped off.

* * *

Somehow his heart both stopped and pumped faster simultaneously. He heard his own strangled cry mingled with Elizabeth's musical laughter. He looked over the edge to see her sitting four feet below him in an outcropping of wildflowers laughing. There were several feet between her and the edge of the cliff. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"There seemed to be no other way of convincing you I was in no danger," she laughed.

"Other than simply allowing the moment to pass!" He reasoned.

"I suppose, but this was far more fun." She held her hand out to him, "Won't you join me?"

"I rather like the view from up here" he replied, able to meet her playfulness now that his heartbeat was returning to normal. Well, almost. The sight of her ethereal beauty awash in the pale morning glow amidst the flowers was sure to keep his pulse up a bit. She was like some rare mythical creature who led him astray from rational thought.

"Am I to shout to you all morning with this distance between us? For I have something important to discuss with you."

"Odysseus taught me to be leery of beautiful women beckoning me from a cliff."

"But the cliff is behind me and we're nowhere near the seaside, I cannot shipwreck you."

"I will not bend to your siren's call."

"Perhaps I ought to sing then …" she began to sing the same song she had sung him the evening before and her fine eyes shone with something that had not been there before. He simply could not resist. He hopped down to sit beside her.

"I'm afraid I have no beeswax nor any sensible men to lash me to a tree. I am enchanted, do with me what you will." He placed a lingering kiss on her palm, "I'm also terribly uncomfortable with the fact that Caroline Bingley was the sorceress who tried to keep me as her own and warn me from succumbing to your siren song."

Elizabeth shuddered, "Let us be thankful that Miss Bingley was not as powerful as Circe. In fact, let us not talk of Miss Bingley at all."

"Agreed. How are you this morning my dear?" He asked with some trepidation. "Has the cold light of day caused to you see the folly of last night?"

"In a sense it has," his blood ran cold at the possibility of loosing her before she continued, "or rather the hazy glow of morning has cast a new light."

"How so?"

"Fitzwilliam, I would like to set a date for our wedding." For a moment, he thought she was a siren, beckoning him with the words he most wanted to hear.

"Elizabeth, we discussed this, we will wait until you fall in love with me."

"I know."

"I don't understand, has your mother been pressuring you to set a date already? I did think that might be a problem."

"Fitzwilliam," she turned his face towards her, "I'm telling you that I am ready to set a date for our wedding." She looked into his eyes with such sincerity that he could not fail to see the love in her eyes.

"How …"

"I know it seems sudden, but last night I went to bed expecting a long sleepless night of conflicted emotions. This morning I woke up fully rested and realized that my emotions were, in fact not conflicted." She looked up at him again, "I love you."

The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. He drew her near and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Sensitive to the fact that this was likely her first kiss, he retreated to see her reaction. She immediately drew him back and kissed him again with more ardor and he deepened the kiss. Of course his siren would not meekly be satisfied with a chaste kiss, or with allowing him all of the control. Not his Elizabeth. And he wouldn't want her any other way.

Some time later, when they finally separated, Elizabeth declared, "I feel as if I've gone through a year's worth of emotions over the past four and twenty hours!"

"As do I. You changed me last night, Elizabeth. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. … You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."

"All that from an overheard diatribe and two hours in a library?" She teased.

"Well, I certainly couldn't allow you to continue despising me. In other circumstances, I may have resented your criticisms but since your assessment was so unflinchingly accurate and overheard without pretense or the intent to injure or infuriate me, I had no choice but to respond accordingly."

"Yes, you know enough of my frankness now to know that I will always happily point out your flaws," she leaned in and kissed him again before breathlessly continuing, "so you best endeavor to always heed your lessons."

Darcy decided to shift the conversation to safer topics lest he forget he was a gentleman. He chose a topic sure to cool his ardor. "I am also in the somewhat unfortunate position of having two of my least favorite people to thank for my present happiness. Without Miss Bingley's trap, and Wickham's underhanded prodding, I might have convinced myself to walk away from you." The thought made him feel physically ill for his potential loss.

"Luckily, fate has already given them their reward." When he quirked his eyebrow, she continued. "They've been rewarded with each other."

"And may they be happy together, they will cheat every tradesman, always overstay their welcome, and possibly claw each other's eyes out at regular intervals."

"And yet they are rather equally matched, with her strong will and shrewd management, she may be able to reign in his excesses – I hear she's to have full control of her fortune! – and with his charm and easy manners, he'll be able to smooth over her social errors and tantrums. Had he ended up with a weak-willed wife, or she with a resentful man they would have ended unhappily indeed."

"Let us talk of happier subjects," he suggested as he positioned his back against the rock and pulled her to his chest, "when will you marry me?"

"Well, there is Christmas to be got through, then twelfth night. Perhaps mid January? Not a very pleasant month for a wedding."

"Fear not, my dear, I shall keep you warm," he punctuated his statement with a kiss on her nape before he continued, "and I will not wait until spring."

"Last night you were willing to wait any range of time from six months to five years to marry!"

"I was willing to wait that long until you loved me. Now that you do love me, there is no need for delay." He lightly caressed her forearms as he spoke.

"I can't imagine the fuss and expense my mother would make if given six months to plan a wedding anyway. She would be insufferable." Elizabeth laughed in her enchanting way. "Six weeks sounds a much better time frame."

Privately, he thought six weeks far too long, especially when he had the temptation of her in his arms at the present moment. However, he knew he must make some concession to propriety so he simply answered, "I agree."

"Jane posed an idea last night that I would like you to consider. As we both became engaged on the same night, what would you think of a double wedding?"

"That sounds efficient, I would have asked Bingley to stand up for me anyway, and you would have asked Jane, this way we can all share the day," he readily assented. "I do however, refuse to share the day with George Wickham."

"And I would rather not share the day with Caroline Bingley, she may forget which groom is hers as she walks up the aisle."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 _Happily Ever Afters_

With the exceptions of one extremely vitriolic letter from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and one uncomfortable conversation where Darcy was forced to finally listen to and accept Georgiana's account of the Ramsgate incident, this Christmas season was indeed a joyful one for all. Georgiana journeyed to Netherfield as soon as could be contrived to meet her new sister and spend Christmas with her new family. The ladies of Longbourn and Netherfield were thrown into a frenzy of wedding planning. Bingley and Jane's smiles and good cheer were infectious to all those around them. Much to Georgiana's surprise, Elizabeth taught Darcy to laugh at himself. Even Caroline's mood lightened as she spent more time with her Mr. Wickham.

As Caroline wished to be the sole focus on her wedding day, and desired to be married before any of the Bennets, she and Mr. Wickham were married on the 18th of December, as soon as the banns were read. The families spent a noisy merry Christmas together at Longbourn, both shocking and charming their proud guests with their informal manners and gleeful traditions. The typical high spirits of a Longbourn Christmas season were only augmented by the joys of two daughters to be married in the New Year. Although this afforded ample opportunity to display the indecorous and vulgar manners he had previously observed, Darcy found that he could forgive them better once he understood the underlying love and affection shared by all of the Bennet clan. Christmas at Pemberley had been such a somber and sedate affair since the death of their mother that both Darcy and Georgiana found the uproar of Christmas at Longbourn refreshing, especially as it afforded a glimpse of the vivacity that Elizabeth was sure to bring to their lives.

The double wedding of the eldest Bennet daughters was heals on the 9th of January. Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. Not only was it the finest affair Meryton had seen in living memory, Mrs. Bennet was able to boast the presence of nobility as the Earl and Countess of Matlock and all of the Fitzwilliam children lent their countenance to the affair. Although the initial icy reception that Mr. Darcy's aunt and uncle gave Elizabeth indicated their inclination to resent the marriage, Elizabeth's lively manner and wit, paired with the real affection that the newlyweds obviously shared soon thawed them. Darcy found himself pleasantly surprised by the casual elegance and intelligence of the Gardiners when introduced at the wedding and promptly invited them to stay as long as they wished at Pemberley on their planned trip to the lakes the following summer.

The wedding party said their goodbyes with bittersweet feelings as three carriages prepared to depart from the wedding breakfast.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley traveled north for their wedding trip and to introduce his bride to his family in Scarborough before returning home to Netherfield. Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to his easy temper, or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his sisters was then gratified; he bought an estate in a neighboring county to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. As Mr. Darcy quickly pointed out, thirty miles of good road was an easy distance and the sisters reunited often.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Wickham, who had delayed their departure to attend the wedding of her brother, traveled to Newcastle to join his new regiment. As part of the marriage settlements, Bingley discharged Wickham's debts in Meryton and London, an enterprise which further supported the notion of baring him access to Caroline's dowry. It was soon realized that even with one independent fortune between them they would require a larger steady income. Darcy paid one last favor to his childhood friend and purchased a commission for him in the Regulars. As his profession would require him to travel with the regiment, the Wickhams decided against purchasing a home just yet. They had grown to love each other so much over the past weeks that they couldn't bear the thought of separating when the regiment pulled him away. With Caroline in control of the purse strings, they always managed to live just a sliver within their budget – often by staying with friends conveniently located near his regiment rather than leasing rooms. She found it prudent to accompany him on his trips to the tailor, and he found he rather liked her input and presence more than he resented her control. Although it was never the first circles of London society, the pair laughed their way through parlors and ballrooms across northern England and supported each other through battles and hardships.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy spent their wedding night in their London townhouse, where Darcy kept Elizabeth entirely too distracted to fret over the management of such a fashionable establishment. The following day they traveled to Pemberley, eager for quiet and seclusion after the hectic frenzy of holidays and wedding planning. Georgiana was to return to Matlock with the Fitzwilliams for a few weeks in order to give Elizabeth time to adjust to her new role as mistress of Pemberley.

The first trial for the Darcys came in the form of Lady Catherine, who was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth's persuasion, he was prevailed on to overlook the offense, and seek a reconciliation; and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait on them at Pemberley.

In April, they removed to their townhouse in London for their first season. In addition to presenting the new Mrs. Darcy to the ton, they also had the joy of launching both Georgiana and Mary into society as well. As predicted, not all members of the first circles were kind to Elizabeth and Mary, but Mr. Darcy defended and supported them as avidly in society as he had with Lady Catherine. With Mr. Darcy's own clout and the added support of the Earl and Countess of Matlock, they were soon accepted into the fold. Having learned his lesson, he allowed Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Mary to choose which entertainments they wished to attend and which they preferred to avoid. With this freedom of choice, and away from the oppressive personalities of her younger sisters, Mary blossomed. A charming Oxford professor took notice of her at a lecture on ecclesiastic architecture and fell madly in love. They were married in May and removed to Oxford where she gained access to all of the books she could wish for. With the decreased pressure, Georgiana was able to enjoy the reduced number of events she chose to attend in her first season and felt better prepared to meet the challenge of her second season.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were always happiest when at Pemberley. Mrs. Darcy soon grew to know every aspect of the ten miles of Pemberley's properties. At first the pair shared daily walks, reveling in their freedom to wander as long and far as they wished without restrictions. With Mr. Darcy's steady instruction, she did eventually learn to ride a horse and they alternated between walking and riding daily when the weather permitted – and occasionally when it did not.


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Pemberley_

Darcy always got a certain thrill as his carriage drew near his home. There was no place in the world he liked better – except perhaps a certain hidden patch of wildflowers upon Ockham Mount. This time, however, his excitement was palpable. This was the first time Elizabeth would see his home, their home. He knew enough of Elizabeth's tastes to know she would love it, but it was such an integral part of himself, of their future together, that some unease was warranted. As they crested the hill which afforded the first view of Pemberley, the carriage stopped. His coachman had long since become accustomed to this ritual of his master.

For a moment, Darcy just gazed out at his home and down at his sleeping wife nestled against his shoulder. He gently kissed the top of her head and murmured her name, "Elizabeth, I thought you might wish to see your new home."

She yawned, nuzzled closer, and mumbled. "What? Are we stopped?"

He gave her an indulgent kiss on the cheek, and whispered softly. "Welcome to Pemberley." He gestured grandly out the window.

"Oh!" Elizabeth said in wonder as she pushed herself off of his chest to gain a better look. "I have never seen a place for which nature has done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste."

"So you approve?" he said eagerly.

"I think there are few who would not," she replied, giving him that impertinent glare that drove him to distraction. "Indeed, to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!"

* * *

Elizabeth was overwhelmed. Until today, her courtship, engagement, and marriage had all been like a wonderful dream. Marriage was everything her Aunt Gardiner had prepared her for, and far better than her Mother's version of that particular speech had warned about. Her husband was attentive, loving, and keen to please. Their plans for the future were happy, bright, and far off. But today the carriage had pulled up to the front gates to the reception of all of the servants of Pemberley, more servants than Longbourn and Netherfield combined. Of course, that was obviously necessary as the house was far larger than either. Fitzwilliam had just taken her on the abbreviated tour of the house which had taken well over an hour, and ended in the most magnificent library, where he promptly assured her she could see the rest of the house on the morrow. She was feeling unequal to the responsibilities ahead of her.

As Mrs. Reynolds had laid a decadent tea for them in the library – truly more food than two people could consume – she softly voiced her fears to her husband.

"Do not worry my love, I have every confidence that you will be a magnificent mistress, and Mrs. Reynolds will be here to guide you."

As she finished with the tea, Mrs. Reynolds gave her a reassuring nod and swiftly departed. Her husband followed the housekeeper to the door and after a few brief words, he closed the door and locked it.

"What are you doing my dear?"

"Do you know how long I've waited to have you alone in a library, Elizabeth?" He said as he joined her on the couch and nuzzled her ear, "six weeks, three days and fourteen hours."

She smiled, "I'm pleased to find your memory so exact."

"I doubt I shall ever forget any part of that evening, it was the most important day of my life."

"More important than our wedding day?"

"Of course. Granted, on our wedding day we were bound together by law and before god. But on the 27th of November, our souls were joined together in love. We overcame our prejudices, and pride, saw each other for the first time as we really were. As two flawed individuals who were destined for each other. And then together we worked to combat those flaws. That one day changed my life and I shall forever be grateful." He closed this speech with an ardent kiss.

"What are you doing?" She giggled as he nudged down the shoulder of her dress.

"Everything I couldn't do six weeks ago," he whispered between kisses to her shoulder.

"Are you trying to compromise me Mr. Darcy?"

"Thoroughly and completely Elizabeth," he said against her collarbone.

"And here I hoped to maintain some credibility in Derbyshire. What will the servants say?"

"They've been dismissed for the evening."

* * *

Some time later, as Elizabeth was pouring the now tepid tea, Darcy produced a small package wrapped in white paper tied with a red bow. "I have a gift for you my love."

Elizabeth opened it to find an exquisite book of Byron's poems bound in leather embossed with gold filigree. She opened the cover to read the inscription.

To my dearest, Loveliest, Elizabeth,  
a small token to keep you nourished.  
With all my love,  
Fitzwilliam Darcy

"Oh Fitzwilliam, it's beautiful!"

"I had it custom made for you."

"I love it, and I love you!"

He poured two glasses of wine – let's face it, nobody wants to drink lukewarm tea – and laid his head in his wife's lap. He read Byron's poems to her as she gently combed her fingers through his hair. And so they spent their first evening at Pemberley locked in the library before a cozy fire, alternating between reading, conversing, and sitting in companionable silence and it truly was as magical as Darcy had dreamed it could be all those weeks ago.

The End


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